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ECHOES OF EUROPE; 



OR, 



WORD PICTURES OF TRAVEL 



BY 



E. K. WASHINGTON 





r' 










'^ PHILADELPHIA: 




JAMt:s Chall:^n & 


Son, 


No. 25 SOUTH SIXTH STREiilT 




I860.' 




1/ 





Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by 
JAMES CHALLEN & SON, 



In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern 

District of Penusvlvauia. 






STEREOTYPE]! BV S. A. GEORGE, 

607 SA.NSOM STREET. 



TO 



MAJOR HE^RY YAUGHAN 

OF MISSISSIPPI, 

®p mumt 

IS EESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR 



AS 



AN HUMBLE MEMENTO OP ESTEEM. 



XS) 



PREFACE. 



Many things in this book might have been omitted, 
many other things might have been said : those that 
are said might have been said better, and the whole 
might have been omitted altogether, and no harm 
done to, or much advantage lost by, a single human 
being. Therefore, on the few who may beg, buy, 
borrow, or steal it, the Author will not inflict the 
additional penalty of a Preface. The Author wrote 
it, because he desired to do so; the Publishers pub- 
lished it, because they desired to do so ; and the 
Reader may read it, if he desires to do so. 



C7) 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Off 13 

Washington City — The President, his Cabinet, <4sc 15 

Outward Bound 23 

Havre — Notre Dame 35 

Rouen — William the Conqueror — Richard the Lion-Hearted 39 

Paris — Pere La Chaise — St, Cloud — The Louvre — Louis Napoleon, 45 

The City of Geneva — Lake Geneva C6 

Chamouni — M ont Blanc — Le Jardin 68 

Switzerland — Castle of Chillon — Yevay 76 

Berne 82 

Lausanne — Neufchatel 85 

Freiburg — The Cathedral and Convent 87 

Interlaken — Wengern Alps 93 

The Great Scheidegg — Grimsel Hospice — Furka 98 

Lake Lucerne — Mount Righi 108 

Zurich — Schaffhausen on the Rhine 116 

Unoth— The Castle 121 

Basle on the Rhine 124 

Strasbourg 129 

Baden-Baden 134 

Heidelburg— The College 137 

Frankfort-on-the-Main 140 

Wiesbaden 145 

Mayence, on the Rhine — Bingen — Coblentz 147 

(9) 



10 CONTENTS. 



PASS 



Cologne 158 

Brussels — Field of Waterloo 164 

Antwerp — Eaphael, Michael Angelo, Rubons, Murillo 171 

L'ondon — The Churches — The Tower — Windsor Castle 174 

The Journey from London to Edinburg — Newcastle-on-Tyne — 

Castle of Edinburg, &c 191 

Stirling — Bannockburn — Grampian Hills — Aberdeen 205, 

Castle of Inverness — Culloden Moor 212 

Glasgow — Ayrshire — Home of Burns 218 

Belfast — Giant's Causeway — Londonderry 224 

Bnniskillen-r-Athlone — The Shannon 231 

Killaloe — Limerick — Killarney 240 

Dublin— Cork 256 

Wales — Bangor 264 

Liverpool — Chester — Shrewsbury 268 

Stratford-on-Avon — Reminiscences of Shakespeare 273 

Kenilworth — Oxford 276 

London-^— The Crystal Palace — Westminster Abbey — Regent's 

Park, Zoological Gardens, &c 279 

Holland — Rotterdam— Hague— Amsterdam 285 

Brunswick — Berlin — Dresden — The Green Yaults 294 

Prague 310 

Vienna — Trieste — Adelsburgh 314 

Venice — Its Churches, Palaces, Dungeons, &c 328 

Verona— Alps of the Tyrol— Milan 341 

Genoa — Leghorn — Pisa 350 

Florence — Its Cathedrals, Palaces, and Galleries 361 

Fiesole— The Uffizi Gallery 37rs 

Route to Rome — Levane — Arezzo — Terni 379 

The Eternal City — First Impressions — The Pope — High Mass and 
Vespers in St. Peter's — The Coliseum — The Palatine Hill — The 
Borghese Palace — Forum of Trajan — Churches of Rome — Ruins 
— Catacombs — The Galleries — Vatican, Etruscan, and Lateran 
Museums— Feast of the Purification — The Carnival, &c., &c. . . 398 



CONTENTS. 11 

PAGE 

Frascati — Tusculum — Pincian Hill 525 

Tivoli — Yilla Adriano — San Lorenzo 531 

Route to Naples — Lake Albano — Yelletri — Tomb of Cicero — 

Capua 542 

Naples — Borbon Museum — Chapel of San Gennaro 560 

Herculaneum — Pompeii — Vesuvius 569 

Ruins of Paestum — Cava — Salerno — Tomb of Virgil 607 

The Mediterranean — Marseilles — Aries — Nismes 617. 

Lyons 632 

Paris — Louvre Museum — St. Denis — Notre Dame — Bois Boulogne. 636 

Versailles 657 

Departure from Paris 678 

Across 688 

New York , 690 

Notes for Travelers 696 



SKETCHES AND SNATCHES OF TRAVEL 



< « » » » 



OFF 

FoK Europe, then — the grand old land of the dead 
past. Let us see with our own eyes the graves of "the 
things that were," as well as the actualities of the present, 
and forget awhile our busy, progressive native land, strong 
yet in its youth, hopefulness and onwardness, and look on 
those lands where the shadows of the past obtrude amongst 
the givings out of the present. We are going for our own 
edification merely — "to see what we shall see" — and we 
resolve to keep a record of our impressions of travel, the 
fleet gatherings of eye and ear, for our perusal in after days, 
or for the entertainment of others. We shall not over- 
burden ourselves with any more thought than is absolutely 
necessary, but content ourselves with broad sketches and 
outlines — or simply those pennings or limoings of the out- 
sides of travel that may employ without working our mind. 
We shall let what we see write itself, if it should please to 
do so. We shall not tell who we are. That may also tell 
itself It is Wednesday morning, five o'clock, June 17th. 
The steam- whistle has resounded through the tranquil val- 
leys of the river, and on we go rapidly — the old town, our 
temporary residence, fading away in the distance — the 
mountains in the back-ground, dense and wooded, retiring 
beneath the horizon. But onward speed the cars. The 
river by our side alternately forgets itself to a lake — then 
rushes along with the rapidity of a mountain torrent — the 

B (13) 



14 OFF. 

morning sunlight mingles with the green foliage of the high 
river banks, and the world smiles cheerily in the glory and 
freshness of June. Here is a city, with its smoke, dust and 
heat ; but in the cool precincts of a hotel, and in the luxuries 
of its good cheer — "strawberries smothered in ice-cream" — 
we forget the business, bustle, money- making and worldly 
goings on of the outside world. And now, this pleasant 
sunlit evening, we are careering our way down another 
river — not on it, but by its side. Steamboating is already 
obsolete. The scenes flit by us like creatures of magic. 
The distance is soon conquered, and we are at a riverside 
village. Having resolved on a visit to the interior, we are 
soon in an antiquated vehicle, rolling along on one of the 
most romantic roads in the Union to a collegiate seat of 
learning. We spend several days pleasantly ; listen to the 
president's lectures on the Bible to the students, and 
observe the general order and scholarly deameanor of the 
students. The Bible, in the sublime and masterly analysis 
of the president, becomes vivific and energizing. All the 
principles of philosophy, in their most salient points, either 
by precept or in example, are discovered to be illustrated in 
it; and the study and investigation of it afibrd inexhaustible 
stimulus to the largest intellect, being the book of the most 
healthy mental and moral tendency in the world. In these 
lectures, the Bible became the Book of Human Nature — 
the key that unlocks all the mysteries of man. But adieu 
to the green old fields, and the quiet, dreamy hills, and the 
ardent minds and gentle hearts which are there uttering out 
the work of life ! 

But time hurries us on. At ten o'clock at night, we de- 
part for the East, on the cars of the Baltimore and Ohio 
Kailroad. No sleep, no comfort, no talk, no nothing, but on, 
on for several hours. The starlight reveals the dusky out- 
lines of mountains, among, around and through which we 
pass screaming, hastening like an insane tornado. Then 



WASHINGTON CITY. 15 

comes oul^ the morning star upon tlie sky — the mountains 
grow into distinctness — the rocks gather visibility, and are 
graced with laurels in bloom ; laughing mountain torrents 
leap along the railway, and the morning, like a great spirit, 
smiles over the world. Here all the obstacles that Nature 
can oppose to railways are conquered ; and if this age were 
not replete with marvels, this railroad would rank among 
the greatest of human achievements. 

Portions of the route unfold scenery of the most romantic 
character. Cheat River is cradled among these mountains 
as their favorite child. It runs along the railway, for some 
distance far beneath it, and seems not yet recovered from 
its astonishment at finding its tranquil retreats invaded by 
the worldly-hearted locomotive. Approaching Cumberland, 
the scenery becomes more bold and rugged — the strata 
project almost perpendicularly — indicating the tremendous 
convulsions of old earth in past ages. Some of the moun- 
tains melt away in soft and wavy outlines ; others advance 
boldly into view, rocky, precipitous and jagged, and ver- 
dureless ; but through all we permeate our course, moun- 
tain after mountain receding in the dim distance. 

Harper's Ferry has become celebrated on account of Jef- 
ferson's fine description and theoretic views concerning it ; 
and his expression, " It is worth a trip across the Atlantic," 
is infallibly quoted by every tourist. The view is con- 
tracted, but bold, bald, and picturesque in the highest 
degree. The mountains, however, are all now passed, and 
we are in 

WASHINGTON CITY, 

perpetuating in its name and local surroundings, the influ- 
ence of that man whose extraordinary and massive charac- 
ter grows greater and grander with the efilux of time, and 
whose history is the centre point to which all Americans 
can turn without shame, and admire, as the spotless sun of 



It) WASHINGTON CITY. 

the past, the man who became great by being true and 
honest, highly celebrated by being modest and humble, and 
highly useful by merely doing his duty. The City of 
Washington combines, possibly, more advantages than any 
other city in America. The ground is admirably undulat- 
ing, giving the advantages of draining, and fine scenery 
without the inconvenience of abrupt hills ; the streets and 
banquettes are remarkably wide — the public buildings com- 
bining the perfection of classic taste and beauty with utility 
— the majestic frith of the Potomac — the numerous and 
flourishing forest trees that adorn the sidewalks— the public 
grounds — the prestige of it being the nucleus of a mighty 
republic — the society, refined though somewhat pretentious, 
— all these make Washington probably, on the whole, the 
most attractive city in America. 

The President receives the calls of visitors on Tuesdays 
and Fridays, between the hours of twelve and two o'clock. 
We called to pay our respects merely. There were many 
persons present who appeared to desecrate this public 
reception into an opportunity for vulgar solicitations for 
office, and presentation of their claims. Mr. Buchanan has 
a fine head and good face ; health apparently vigorous, at 
present ; hair thin and gray ; stature tall and form portly, 
and presence commanding and impressive. There were 
numerous applicants for office, all of whom were more or 
less embarrassed — the President preserving a courteous ease 
and listening to each with suavity but firmness. Each 
visitor introduces himself, presenting his own card, shakes 
hands with the President, converses five or six minutes, 
and retires, shaking hands again at parting. Some urged 
their claims in a low, deprecating tone ; others more loudly, 
asserting " they never had asked any thing from the gov- 
ernment." All of course were intense Democrats. We 
noticed the candor with which the President responded: 
neither unduly elevating nor depressing the hopes of the 



WASHINGTON CITY. 17 

applicants. But surely the President of the United States 
ought to be approached by his fellow-citizens without 
being regarded as a mere office-dispenser to needy appli- 
cants. The office should seek the man, not the man the 
office. When it came our time to have a few words with 
him, he indicated it by a glance. After shaking hands, we 
told him where we were from — were friends to his adminis- 
tration — wished nothing from it, however, except that he 
might long have health, and his administration might pros- 
per. His countenance manifested great relief when we said 
we wanted nothing, and he became quite gracious; said 
" England was a most wonderful little island ;" said six or 
eight months were sufficient to see all in Europe worth 
seeing; wished us a pleasant journey, and then we left him 
to encounter again the gauntlets of unceasing office- 
seekers. 

The President's Cabinet is composed of men who are 
moderate in patriotism, tolerably honest, and rather respect- 
able in intellect ; Mr. Buchanan is the superior of every one 
of them, in practical intellectual penetration, and will doubt- 
less not allow them to rule him. Cass is an accomplished 
rather than able politician, and more of a sleek, suave, suc- 
cessful old gentleman than anything else. Black is rather 
able, but has more empressment of gvesituess than reality; has 
been spoiled by being thought able to be President, and by 
living among small men, among whom he is relatively 
great, bat really only pompously little. Thompson is ener- 
getic and practical, and would make a good President, had 
any of the members of this Cabinet such a thing written 
in their destinies. The practice of our government has of 
late years revolted from its original intendment. It was 
not expected the President would be a party man. The 
theory of government in Europe is, that the apex, the 
supreme head of the governing power, should belong to no 
party specially. A party is essentially a faction. Parties 
2 b2 



18 WASHINGTON CITY. 

may and must exist; but there should be a power above 
partyism, in every government. But of late years all our 
great, or so-called great men, may be presumed already 
convicted of aspiring to the Presidency ; and the business 
of the people seems reduced to the endorsement of certain 
men who have caused themselves to be nominated b}' a pro- 
cess of intrigue, which begins in ambition and ends in 
corruption. Each party endures the other's four years' 
government in hope of success the next time ; consequently 
no general attachment (which is, in European monarchies, 
the strongest power in the state,) can spring up between the 
person or character of the President and the people. Who 
feels any real attachment to any President, of late years, 
except for interest or pride ? It would seem to be getting 
high time for the people to oust the miserable brood of 
Presidency seekers and party mongers, to elect a man who, 
not trammeled by party, and who has the intellect to dis- 
cern the right, and the will to dare to do it, no matter 
where or what the opposition, to whom they might become 
attached for his personal or individual virtues, and to hurl 
the low Congressmen, and small-brained and corrupt- 
hearted dealers, and vendors, and pedlers in our great gov- 
ernment, to their merited damnation. A republican 
government is slow in action and execution, but great in 
deliberation, therefore the President should have a certain 
energy and assumption of the responsibility, to compensate 
for the slowness and stagnation induced by factious opposi- 
tion. He should be no man of show, no creature of state, 
no mere department, but an understanding, directing, re- 
solved will, honest, inflexible and efficient, who can accom- 
plish by the nation, and not by a party, the great mission 
of the new idea of America, that governments derive their 
just origin from the consent of the governed. But the vir- 
tue of our people will long preserve our government, not- 
withstanding the dishonesty and imbecility of the preten- 



WASHINGTO:^' CITY. 19 

tious demagogues who aspire to govern, but only degrade 
tlie name of legislator. 

Mount Yernon is sixteen miles below Washington, and 
is still in the possession of one who bears the name of the 
original possessor. The family are understood to be re- 
duced, and none of them have displaj^ed any abilities 
similar to those of the renowned chief. Like many other 
Virginia families, they require an infusion of Irish, Grer- 
man, or plebeian blood to energize them. But the over- 
shadowing greatness of George Washington has not invited 
competition, though it has discouraged effort. Most of them 
seem to think it is great enough simply to wear his name. 
The family have gone down, and will never rise again. 
Yet to Mount Yernon still turn, and ever will turn, the 
fondest wishes and warmest aspirations of every true 
American, as the Mecca shrine of Freedom — as the grave 
of a buried, powerful influence, that, instead of growing 
gray, grows grander with time. The bells of steamers are 
tolled as they pass near Mount Yernon. 

The old town of Alexandria is eight miles below Wash- 
ington. We strolled through its streets, the names of which 
still revive the associations of the old colonial times. 
Arlington is the fine, old baronial-looking residence of 
G. W. P. Custis, Esq. The view from it is beautiful in the 
extreme ; and the woods around it, and its general appear- 
ance, have an ancestral and old-time aspect, perhaps no- 
where found out of England except in Yirginia. The old 
gentleman himself is plainly dressed, prepossessing in man- 
ner, with a florid complexion, and good health, though in 
his seventy-seventh year. He lives in the past. He is the 
only surviving member of Gen. W.'s domestic family. He 
is a myth, associating the past with the present. Eacked 
and tortured his memory has been to disintegrate from it 
all its past. He will soon be no more, and the fact of 
Gen, W.'s actuality will depend on written records alone- 



20 WASHINGTON CITY. 

He has lived well, and has been in prosperous circumstances 
from inherited wealth all his life ; to which he has added 
the accomplishments of literature and painting. But his 
old age is melancholy, for the men of his time have departed. 
We found him, however, in the midst of a festive rural 
scene, enacting at the Arlington Springs — a great sylvan 
place and a favorite resort of summer parties from the city. 
The dancing and song sped gayly on ; and the mirth of 
many feet made music sweet while the old gentleman and 
ourself on a rustic seat entered upon the bygone. Familiar 
already with many of his recollections, it was yet pleasant 
to hear them from the living lips. One of his remarks was, 
"that we shall never again have such another man as 
Washington till we have such another mother." What we 
want in America is mothers — not the novel-reading, ner- 
vous, sedentary, fashionable females — but true women — 
conscientious and high-spirited — who can learn to enforce 
discipline by learning to obey it. The general's mother, 
according to Mr. Custis, preserved a great influence over 
him, even in extreme age. He always addressed her as 
"Madam," not as mother. He recounted that Lawrence 
Washington had told him that in the days of the general's 
boyhood, he was frequently at the house during the hour of 
meals. Mrs. W. advanced to the table — all standing — none 
daring to sit down till she, shading her eyes a few moments 
with her hand, offered a silent invocation to the Source of 
all : after which, moving her hand, all sat down, not a word 
being said during the meal. The six or eight tall, athletic 
young men — and one of them afterward the hero of the 
age — would sooner, according to Mr. Custis, have put their 
heads into the fire than disobey her slightest injunction. 
After the victory of Yorktown — when Gen. W. was at the 
zenith of his popularity — he came, attended by a numerous 
staff of officers, into the town of Fredericksburg, Va. 
A vast excitement prevailed in the county and town to see 



WASHINGTON CITY. 21 

him. He was the throbbing pulse of every man's heart. 
In the midst of this his mother remained in her room spin- 
ning worsted, saying, "It was George's duty to come and 
see her:" which he soon did — not at the head of his officers, 
but privately — sending his sister, Mrs. Lewis, to know 
whether she was ready to see him; and, after the first greet- 
ing was over, she looked at him, and merely said: ^'Time 
and hard service, George, have very much changed your 
appearance." Not a word of Yorktown, no allusion to his 
battles or his glory. When La Fayette had exhausted 
panegyric in favor of her son, in a set speech to her, she 
merely replied : ^' My dear marquis, I am not surprised. 
George was a good boy." Lund Washington, proprietor 
of the Hayfield estate, four miles from Mount Yernon, was 
the general's agent at Mount Yernon during the entire war. 
The British troops ascending the Potomac, sent him a civil 
message, requesting to buy some fresh provisions ; which 
he sent on board, without, however, taking payment. For 
this he was censured by the general, who said, " The exam- 
ple was bad ; that the British should have been forced to 
come and take the provisions." Posterity has, however, 
decided generally in favor of Lund Washington, who, acting 
for another, did not feel free to expose the premises to 
destruction for refusal, without specific directions from the 
proprietor ; and to his course in this matter is perhaps due 
the preservation of Mount Yernon to the present time. 

The great cities of Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New 
York, though each has a distinct physiognomy, yet apart 
from their business facilities, present but few attractions to 
the mere tourist. Our American cities are as yet lacking 
in this sort of interest. Their historical associations are too 
recent to be interesting. The traveler catches the spirit of 
the population — feels impelled irresistibly onward — and 
feels but little disposition to linger calmly over past or 
present. America is hurrying on to its future. The hearts 



22 WASHINGTON CITY. 

of our citizens beat rapidly. We are the fastest people on 
all tlie records of time. There is no time to muse on the 
days of departed glory. We are the actors^ the workers of 
the great Present. Acquisitive, accumulative and ardent, 
with redundant life, and a continent to be conquered^ that 
had slept too long, we look not back over the " things that 
were," bat grasp our future, and the mighty grave alone 
can still the restless hearts agitating through our lives. But 
the quiet sleepers of the ^' Old Trinity," who have lain down 
to rest by the side of the busy thoroughfare over which their 
past life walked, lie and sleep on unheeded by the living 
who tread beside them, enacting the same twice-told tale of 
joys, loves, cares, strifes — soon to sleep themselves and give 
place to other dreamers. Saye,th the French proverb, and 
truly: ''Life is a dream, of which Death is the awaken- 
ing." 

New York is getting rather famous for its strong-minded 
preachers, who are rather strongly minded to do certain 
things than actually able men — parts of great men, rather 
than men of great parts. The self-satisfied and intensely 
self-appreciating H. W. Beecher, preaches here to vast 
crowds. He is a plausible, youthful-looking personage, 
who appears to be on good terms with himself. It has 
been remarked that those who are without passions are 
without talents. Mr. B. is fanatical, but yet presents the 
phenomenon among fanatics, of having some ability — 
though it is rather of the notorious than noted kind. lie 
has an easy delivery and is voluble — but the "ISTascitur 
ridiculus mus" may often apply to the ideas uttered with 
so much diction and empressmeni. He has politics in his 
head, and in his heart a worldly, utilizing something which 
he thinks is religion. Men of his stamp are always wrong, 
especially in matters of religion, which have to be received^ 
and not improved, revised and amended; and these irrever- 
ential men take the Bible as they make it, and like the 



OUTWAKD. 23 

Portuguese astronomer, would advise the Creator better. 
Their minds being unballasted, the possession of a promi- 
nent idea enslaves their intellect, and comet-like, the stars 
must do it reverence as it passes — though when investi- 
gated, it is found to be empty, gaseous, and a mere trans- 
parent tail. 

The egregious Greeley, one of the notabilities of New 
York, is another instance of coarse success without respect- 
ability and without genius — one of the men who have 
achieved success by mere low, dogged devotion to the 
world, and concentrated self-interest. The success of such 
men is ephemeral ; that of true genius is undying, and 
gathers lustre with age. If it were better to be wrong with 
Plato than right with all the world besides, it were surely 
better to fail with Burns, Poe, or Coleridge, than succeed 
with such earth, earthy creatures as Barnum or Greeley. 
The lowest kind of success is money success ; the next 
lowest is popularity with a party. We assimilate to what 
we work for. As nothinoj is more delis-htful than a new 
feeling, how refreshing, how luxurious it would be to 
Greeley to indulge himself with a little honesty and patriot- 
ism, or for Beecher to be pious and acquaint himself a little 
with Christianity ! these being things that do not necessarily 
come as parts of any pursuits, but require to be made dis- 
tinct objects. But perhaps this suffices for the gaseous 
Greeley and the bombastic Beecher. 

OUTWARD. 

But we are off at last — this day, Wednesday, July 1st, at 
twelve o'clock — in our ship. The day is most peculiarly 
dreary, drizzling, disheartening. We step aboard the bark 
to which we commit our fortunes for some weeks ; we are 
towed down New York bay by a steamer some eighteen 
miles to Sandy Hook, and there we are left ; the winds hav- 
ing '•' no west" in them, as the captain remarks. 



24 OUTWARD. 

Obstinate east winds prevail — rain, cold, dreariness, dull- 
ness, of course. We lie at anchor here all night — next 
day — night — next day also — weather continuing dismal. 
What resource but to bear it and be sea-sick ! We indulge 
in the latter duly. Our captain very sociably, however, 
makes efforts to relieve the tedium, but in vain. Our 
cabin passengers consist of but four persons — two young 
men, one from Massachusetts, another from New York, our 
friend, and ourself We selected a sailing vessel, because 
we wished to take a regular old-fashioned sea-voyage, and 
get as much of the sea into us as possible. Our destina- 
tion is Havre. In New York we purchased circular letters 
from the house of Duncan, Sherman & Co., addressed to 
their correspondents in the various cities of Europe, accom- 
panied by small bills or drafts on them — ten and twenty 
pounds sterling — each payable in the current coin of any 
country in Europe. But five miles more remain and we 
shall be on the sea, the open sea, and the last hill of our 
native land will have faded into thin air. How, in lookina: 
back, we seem to see the beckoning hands of friends from 
whom we parted, rising from far away, but in vain. Life 
will go on with them as with us ; and if in the dubious 
future we meet again, we shall not be what we were. We 
may overtake our future, but our past never. How the 
joys of quiet firesides in the olden, with friends now per- 
ished, flit before our mind, and mock the chase of phantom 
happiness in the future. But life must on. Around us 
groan the sad waves ; afar in the distance lie the lowlands 
of Long Island; those of the Jersey shore higher; and on 
the restless waters float many vessels, some large, others 
small, waiting for the winds '^ to get out," all sails furled, 
all at anchor, and the rain, the dreary rain, over all. What 
a fine opening for the Steam Power to wake these black 
hulls into life and motion! But we are in the care of old 
iEolus and his winds, older by far than that creature of a 



ODTWAKD. 25 

fast age, Steam, and more romantiC; and must wait his 
bidding. 

This morning, Sunday, July 5th, all that was visible of 
America has sunk beneath the western horizon. Adieu 
then to our native land for months — perhaps forever. Yes- 
terday was the natal day of our government, and our native 
land disappeared to us in the dim shades of evening ; the 
highlands of Neversink, New Jersey, with the white towers 
and lighthouses, and green woods, gradually lessening and 
lowering. But the rockets ascending in honor of the day 
from New York city, and the various hotels on Long 
Island and Long Branch, still rose high in the air, and 
were the last signals of the fair, proud and happy land 
beneath, July 2d and 3d, we remained in Sandy Hook 
harbor — easterly winds, directly ahead, preventing our 
egress to the open sea. Saturday morning, July 4:th, the 
wind slightly changing, our captain attempted to go 
out; but failing, the timely aid of a steam tow-boat at 
length drew us into the open sea. Many vessels had come 
down from New York, and with all sails set, stretched out 
to the seaward. Soon after, a calm came down on the sea, 
and for several hours slight progress was made, and up to 
this morning, July oth, our progress is slow. The sea is 
smooth as a mirror, and only swells and heaves underneath 
the hazy horizon as if seeking rest. A fleet of vessels is 
around us at various distances — some near enough to hear 
them striking the bells to chase the hours — others afar off, 
dipping beneath the horizon, apparently motionless, their 
white sails reflecting the sunlight. To our left, on " Old 
Long Island's sea-girt shore," can yet be heard the breakers 
— the sound coming over the smooth sea, like "the noise 
of many waters." It will die away, however, and be the 
last sound we shall hear from America. Those cheerful 
little birds, Mother Carey's chickens, come playfully around, 
in considerable numbers, resting lightly on the water ; they 



26 OUTWARD. 

are said to hatcli their eggs underneatli their own wings. 
Our passengers are all diversely employed — one is reading 
a recent novel, another looking miscellaneously over space, 
another is about to try fishing, as he says, ^' only to raise a 
breeze"; others yawning; another, who has an inquiring 
mind, wants information in regard to the various parts of 
the vessel. One is wishing he could take an excursion out 
into the woods ; vain hope ! for we are motionless, and 

" The sea and the sky — 
Lie like a load on the weary eye." 

To-day, July 5th, during several hours, we lay in almost 
a dead calm — breezeless, motionless. But toward evening 
a light wind sprang up, and we are now going " over the 
waters away and away." The full, round moon, is " hung 
like a gem in the brow of the sky," and the vessel bounds 
over the waves like a freed, fearless antelope. The sea 
heaves and sighs like a living thing underneath us ; but we 
go on to our destiny and our future. 

Some days have passed away. It is now Sunday, July 
12th. The writer had the unpleasant necessity laid on him 
of sustaining in its worst form, that distressing sickness, 
Mai de mer. This complaint seems to consist mainly in 
an accumulation of bile upon the stomach, arising from a 
perversion of the ordinary centre of gravity in the system, 
occasioned by the motion of the vessel. There is perhaps 
no remedy for it but simply to endure it till the system 
can habituate itself to the new laws of motion around it. 
Keeping the bowels relaxed, and taking doses of Seidlitz 
powders, and also abstinence, will greatly mitigate it. We 
have had favorable and pleasant winds for some days, and 
have gone over nearly a third part of our course, or one 
thousand miles ; and we are now, this pleasant, sunny day, 
gliding over the Banks of Newfoundland, with several 
fishing vessels of different nations in sight, engaged in 



OUTWAKD. 27 

extracting from their native element the codfish, which 
abound in this shoal part of the ocean. Whales also appear 
to be numerous here, perhaps of the smaller kinds, as their 
spouting, or hlowing^ is seen almost every time the eye rests 
attentively on the water for a few moments. The fishing is 
carried on here principally during April, May and June. 
The depth of the water varies from thirty fathoms to seventy 
or eighty. The fishing is done by hook and line, or by a 
number of hooks fastened to one line, called crawls. Any 
thing would do for bait ; but clams are generally used, or a 
portion of codfish. The proprietors of the vessels usually 
receive one half of all the fish caught. The captain claims 
one-fifth of the remainder. The rest are divided among the 
men : each man receiving in proportion to what he caught. 
These are the great fishing-banks of the world, and employ 
annually many thousands of Americans, English and French. 
Ordinarily a sea voyage is viewed as extremely monot- 
onous. Yet there are many things presented to observa- 
tion, even on the wide bosom of old ocean's waste wilderness 
of waters. The pleasant groves, with their treasure of rich, 
soft, green leaves ; their bird-dwellers, with their cheerful 
music ; the grassy meads, with their garniture of flowers • 
the mossy rocks, and densely wooded mountains, are far 
away — with the piles of brick in cities, in which revolve 
the active phases of human life. Yet the deep has its won- 
ders, its mysteries, and its beauties. At times, throbbing 
like a great unhappy monster ; then playing with its tiny 
wavelet ; and now retiring into obscurity 'neath white folds 
of mist; then warring with the winds and battling with 
rock-bound banks — it is at once a world apart, and the 
mirror of the world of men. Its scenes of sunset and sun- 
rise, its clouds, its moons and stars — all have a more 
wondrous beauty than those of land ; and its ever restless 
rolling stirs more deeply the infinite deep of the human 
heart. 



28 OUTWARD. 

We are now — Thursday, July 17tli — more than half our 
way across the ocean, having gone over about 39° of longi- 
tude, and some 37° yet remain: the latter degrees being of 
course shorter than the former, as we are further north. 
We have seen several large whales, one or two being at 
least one hundred feet long, coming up to the surface to 
breathe, with a noise similar to that of a high-pressure 
steam-engine, then again seeking their home in the bound- 
less deep. Up to the present time, during this week, we 
have averaged about seven knots per hour ; but now our 
sails flap idly in the listless breeze ; a dense fog obscures 
the horizon, and our course is slow. 

Friday, July 18th. This morning the dense cloud in 
which we had been sailing for twenty-four hours has dis- 
appeared, and we are careering over the deep at the rate of 
ten knots an hour. The sea is broken into multitudinous 
waves, each frothed with the surf, and our gallant ship 
dashes them aside. They retire, angry and convulsed 
while she, under a favorable breeze, stretches on over the 
great rotundity of waters. Our captain, who is an expe- 
rienced seaman, theorizes that there is a correspondent 
animal in the sea to each species on land. He has himself 
seen an animal in the sea rise perpendicularly to the height 
of more than fifty feet, with a serpent-shaped head — body 
as large as a barrel — then turn itself spirally and descend. 
This was seen by himself for several minutes, and by two 
or three of the crew — thus affording additional evidence in 
favor of the existence of a sea serpent — which has been a 
standing subject on which the wit of editors and others 
might exhaust itself. There is a sea-cow, a sea-horse; 
there is the flying fish ; and the tenantry of the sea offer 
many other resemblances to those of the land : therefore? 
why may there not be a sea serpent ? Besides, how little 
do we know of the sea, its miles of perpendicular water, 
its caves, its valleys — where may disport monsters that 



OUTWARD. 29 

never come to the surface, similar to or actually realizing 
earth's lost, extinct animals — the Megalonyx, Megatherium, 
Mastodon, and others — huge, cold-blooded animals — old, 
and with barnacles several inches long, covered with moss 
and seaweed ; alive, though overgrown with grass ; and 
which have sometimes been mistaken by sailors for rocks 
or shallows. 

Last night many porpoises came around the vessel. The 
water was phosphorescent, and each one as it glided on left 
a track of golden fire, sometimes near two hundred feet 
long. 

''And as they reared, tlie elfisli liglit 
Fell off in snowy flakes." 

How playful and happy seem the myriad dwellers of the 
deep. Some of them must be literary also, as they go in 
schools — a pun-ish-meant. 

To-day, Tuesday, July 17th, we are in latitude 47° 30', 
longitude 27° 41^ We have lain in almost a calm all 
morning '' with the blue above and the blue below." for 
the reliable force of steam to drive us along, instead of the 
romantic, fitful winds ! Traveling by steam and communi- 
cation by lightning are requisitions of the age. The mind 
of man keeps pace in restlessness with the means of grati- 
fication. The age of repose is gone, and life is everlasting 
hurry, high-pressure and business. Action and not medi- 
tation now is our role. We live now, we do not enjoy. We 
are eager for our future and scornful of our past. We truly 
seize Time by the forelock ; and the demon of unrest is in 
our hearts. But the breeze is comino- from over the far 

o 

deep. All our canvas is spread to catch and woo it. Not 
a single sail has come into our horizon for some days. We 
have but the sea, and the sky, and the clouds, and the little 
distinct segments of human existence on board our sliip. 
This morning, Monday, July 20th, ^vve are leading quite 

c2 



80 OUTWARD. 

a roving, rollicking, romping life. A heavy " Bay of Bis- 
cay sea," as the captain calls it, is sweeping the ocean; there 
is abundance of ''table-tipping," chair-overturning, and a mis- 
cellaneous medley of confusion. The centre of gravity is 
all upset, we are " rocked in the cradle of the deep," and 
voluntary motion is suspended. Up and down every thing 
goes, as if a legion of idle spiritual-rappers had been let 
loose upon us. I shall drop the pompous plural and use 
the more modest " I" hereafter. I have got over two kinds 
of sea-sickness : one induced by the " pitching" motion of 
the vessel, the other by its " rolling," so that the longitude 
and latitude of my stomach have been very often taken. 
We have run upon one or two sleeping whales of late; and 
during several evenings past, at sunset, the winds squalled 
at the waters, old ocean heaved and tossed, the clouds sput- 
tered down some rain, and there were premonitions of a 
storm. But now the bright sun is shining on the wild for- 
lornity of heaving sea, which we are skimming at the rate 
of seven knots per hour. We are on the European side of 
the Atlantic, being in Ion. 19°, lat. 47°. Ships as well as. 
steamers ascend, at this season, to a high latitude, for a 
double reason : the degrees of longitude decrease as you go 
north, (in our present latitude, they are about forty-two 
miles in length,) and also to avoid icebergs, which, at this 
season, have passed to the southward of us. Yesterday a 
cane-bottomed chair passed by us, possibly a fragment of 
some old wreck, which has been floating, unreclaimed, 
about on the deep, with no voice to tell its tale. Two barks 
appear in the dim, remote distance : their sails look like 
shadows of mist. 

It is Tuesday, July 21st. We make, on an average, four 
degrees per day. Westerly winds prevail at this season, on 
this side of the Atlantic. We are in Ion. 15° 35', lat. 48°, 
being nearly seven hundred miles from our destination. 
The sea is yet very rough ; vast hills and mountains of un- 



OUTWARD. 31 

dulating water rise sometimes on each side of the vessel, 
which alternatel}^ sinks down into the trough of the sea, 
and rises on the back of a huge swell, while all around the 
sea appears as if hoary. But 

'' Our sliip is liglit and free, 
The swiftest falcon scarce can flee 
More merrily along." 

The '' log" indicates our progress to be about ten miles 
per hour. The method of ascertaining our speedjs very 
simple. A rope with the "log," a triangular piece of board 
attached, is heaved from the stern. A second- glass ascer- 
tains the number of seconds a certain number of fathoms 
occupies in being drawn off the reel — which will have the 
same proportion to miles as the seconds have to hours. As, 
for example, two hundred and thirty feet are to six thou- 
sand and eighty-six feet, the number of feet in a sea mile, so 
are fourteen seconds, the time two hundred and thirty feet 
occupy in running off the reel, to thirty-six hundred 
seconds, the number in an hour. 

To-day, "Wednesday, July 22d, we have made more than 
four degrees more to the eastward, and we are now in 
soundings. The sea has lost its color of deep ocean, and is 
now of a much darker hue. The heavy, agitating swells 
have also gone down, but the westerly wind and fine 
weather still continue. No sails in sight, most of them 
having been left astern. On Saturday next we expect to 
make our landing, having only twelve degrees of longitude 
yet to make. This morning the captain spoke a vessel, 
bound from Quebec to Shields in England, which had been 
out thirty days; and having no chronometer, and thus 
obliged to depend on dead reckoning, they had mistaken 
their longitude by four degrees. 

Our longitude is 49°, and the north star occupies a per- 



32 OUTWARD. 

ceptibly higher altitude than that in which we have been 
accustomed to view it. Who shall solve the great practi- 
cal problem of the present age, and behold it shining per- 
pendicularly above him ? 

We are now, Thursday, July 23d, evidently drawing 
near to some inhabited region, and we expect in about two 
days more sail to discover the continent of Europe. Ships 
are much more numerous, coming out of the English 
Channel, some of them large vessels, and some of them 
bound for our own native soil, now far to the westward. 
We are in Ion. 70°, lat. 48° 51'. To-night we expect to 
enter the English Channel, out of which have sailed the 
British fleets that have conquered the world of waters. We 
shall probably see land to-morrow. Start Point, England, 
being perhaps first in view. The weather has been fine for 
taking observations. The following are the captain's cal- 
culations for our latitude at the close of the nautical day, or 
twelve o'clock, July 23d: — 

Altitude of Sun, - - - 610 2V 
• Correction, dip, refraction, - 12' 



Correct altitude, 
Zenith, distance, - 


- 610 
~ 90O 


14' 
00' 


Declination of Sun, 


280 
- 20O 


46' 
03' 


True Latitude, - 


- 480 


49' 



We are, to-day, Friday, July 24th, sailing up the broad 
waters of the English Channel. The day is bright and 
lovely, sails flit across the waters, and a strong breeze 
carries us on our way. No land is in sight on either side. 
A dull, hazy mist, however, looms above the coast of En- 
gland. The air is perceptibly warmer as we approach land. 
To-morrow we expect to see it, and feast our eyes on the 



OUTWARD. 



33 



more natural abode of man, having seen nothing scarcely 
for many weary days, but the wide field of waters, and all 
are thoroughly g^ne and ennuyed by the sea scenes. 
Novels, high-pressure, thrilling, alarming as they are 
of late days, have ceased to amuse ; all jokes have become 
stale, and the surging of the waters has ceased to be musi- 
cal. A large steamship propeller, met us this morning, 
bound for the West, heaving and pitching over the waters 
much more than a ship, which is steadied by her sails. 

It is now late in the afternoon of this sunny, lovely day, 
and all hearts have been rejoiced by a glimpse of land. To 
the south may be seen the island of Guernsey, and still 
further off, in the same direction, the island of Jersey. 
These, though very near the French coast, belong to En- 
gland. The white houses on Guernsey are very perceptible 
through the spy-glass. To the east may be seen, very 
dimly, the *' Caskets," three lighthouses on rocks near the 
French coast. 

The following calculation represents our longitude to- 
day at two o'clock : — • 



Altitude of Sun, - - - 
Correction for dip, refraction, 


. 530 


58/ 
12' 




Correct altitude, - - - 
Latitude, - - - - 
Zenith distance, - . - 


- 540 

- 490 

- 700 


10' 
37' 
11/ 


•18849 secant. 
•1065] cosecant 
8-72120 cosine. 




1730 


58' 


9-73396 sine. 


Take half the sum, 
Altitude subtracted. 


- 86O 

- 540 


59' 
10' 


18-75016 sum. 


Kemainder, - - - - 


- 320 


48' 


9-37508 half sum 


Apparent time. 
Equation, 


- 


- 1 


-39-54 
6-11 


Correct time, - 


1-46-5 



M OUTWAED. 

Time by Chronometer, _ _ . 1 •44*25 

Chronometer slow, _ _ _ 12'51 



Correct time at Greenwich, - - 1 •57*16 

- 1-45-06 



Difference, - - - - - 4)11'11 



Longitude west from Greenwich, at present, - 2*47 



It is now Saturday morning, July 25th. Last evening 
we passed along the northern coast of France, and we are 
now entering the mouth of the Seine, near which Havre (or 
Havre de Grace, the "favorable harbor,"') is situated. We 
have now the high coast of La Belle France, with its culti- 
vated fields and its villages distinctly visible. The day is 
truly beautiful, and everything about the vessel is in readi- 
ness to disembark, and a sensation of relief at escaping from 
the foul air of the ship and the confinement is felt by all. 
Yet we have had a pleasant passage ; the weather has been 
unusually pleasant; the captain and other ofiicers very 
courteous ; and, upon the whole, the trip has been thus far 
as agreeable as under the circumstances it could be. With 
a memory of the energetic, young, and prosperous native 
land beyond the broad Atlantic, we gaze around on Euro- 
pean waters, and see the shores that have furnished history 
with '' her ample pages, rich with the spoils of time." We 
are glad to step ashore on any land, however far from our 
own institutions and laws ; and we are sure that the peoples 
of all these countries are with us in feeling and in heart, and 
that their antiquated monarchies, that have crushed them 
down like Sindbad's Old Man of the Mountain, will eventu- 
ally be heaved from their shoulders, and progressive human 
amelioration make for itself suitable laws. Last night we 
got some French papers, which reminded us we were yet in 
the world. 



HAVRE. 35 



HAVRE. 



At length we bave stepped ashore from the ocean, the 
oommon property of all the world, on French soil. The 
breeze, which had kindly wafted us on, died away into too 
soft a breath for our clumsy preparations, when we were 
within six miles of Havre. A telegraphic signal by flags 
soon brought the powerful agency of a steam tow-boat to 
our assistance ; and we were soon in the Seine, and moored 
in its docks. The harbor of Havre is an artificial one, and 
is principally accessible at high tides. The ground about 
Havre is high ; the hills are under excellent cultivation, 
and the yellow stubble of wheat looks down from many of 
them. The city itself occupies low ground, and is pene- 
trated in various parts by docks, on which may be seen 
vessels from all ports of the world — Havre itself being the 
harbor of Paris, The tide rises about twenty-three feet. 
American cities all look alike. There is a certain aspect 
of neivness in them all. But Havre, and I presume most 
European cities, look old — very old. Human action has 
been at work here for hundreds of vears, till its works have 
crumbled down : yet it still goes on — onward. American 
eyes are struck with the height of the houses and the nar- 
rowness of the streets. And certain parts of Chartres and 
Royal-streets in Kew Orleans are not unlike portions of 
Havre. The banquettes are very narrow, and a large por- 
tion of the population walk in the midst of the street. 

But before you land several gendarmes, or police-officers, 
decorated and uniformed, come on board, who politely 
demand your passports. Agents from the Custom House 
take possession of your trunks — examine them to see 
whether you have imported any contraband articles — the 
principal search being made for tobacco, which in all forms 
is prohibited. If nothing is found, the trunks or luggage 
are returned, on application, by the agent of the hotel where 



36 HAVRE. 

you stop. You reclaim your passports in person at tlie 
mayor's office. You find every thing Frencla, and foreign 
and fine. You are addressed in accents foreign to your 
English ears. You attempt to answer in French. The 
Frenchman is too polite to laugh, but he bestows on you a 
look of compassionj and appears to feel inward grief in find- 
ing his vernacular thus cruelly murdered. You look up 
the streets; you see moustaches moving along, behind 
which are men. You see the inevitable gendarmes every- 
where — the national guards of a government which makes 
itself felt. You feel the presence of a strong imperial 
government over you. The gendarmes are numerous, and 
constantly promenading the city — in every crowd, and even 
within the sacred precincts of the churches. They are a 
courteous, fine-looking body of men ; and Louis Napoleon 
has shown much wisdom in popularizing this service — ren- 
dering it respectable, and identifying it with the govern- 
ment, and making it the interest of this disciplined corps to 
be on the side of the government — among a people so 
•accessible to periodical excitements, called revolutions, and 
coups d'etat, as the French are. You reflect with some 
impatience on the inefficiency of the police department in 
your own country. Well; you reach your hotel. There 
your notions of eating undergo an inversion. You are 
expected to take coffee, or tea, with bread and butter, at or 
about seven o'clock, your breakfast at eleven, and your 
'dinner at six o'clock in the evening. The waiters wear 
white gloves ; and instead of eating with American vehe- 
mence and excitement, you behold everybody eating with 
sublime ease and a calm assurance that he will get enough; 
and a conviction that he has a stomach and liver whose 
rights he will respect. 

But now for Havre. And first here, on Rue de Paris, is 
the silent, old, and stately church of Notre Dame — three 
hundred years old. You enter. It is the first European 



HAVRE. 6 i 

church, you were ever in; and it has all the characteristics 
of ''the things you read about." There are paintings, 
statuary, an immense organ ; all is high, massive, and 
indicative of the great Catholic religion, which is the same 
nearly all over the world in its forms. You see the wor- 
shipers kneeling, devout and attentive. You see the promi- 
nence which the Virgin Mary occupies in their ritual, 
which reminds you of Voltaire's observation, that the 
Catholics believed in a Quaternity — instead of a Trinity — 
composed of " Father, Son, Holy Spirit, and the Virgin 
Mary." As a Protestant you object, of course, to the whole 
thing, and think this religion is too sensuous; and that 
they ought to look behind the thing to the thing signified. 
But you forget that all people are not as wise as you are; 
and that all people should survey all things from the stand- 
point of their own entirety and not from that of others. 
Protestants err in many things in regard to Catholics. 
There is a devotional fervor generated by the Catholic 
ritual, which produces good effects on the human heart. 
What is believed in as true, has some of the inherent powers 
of truth. Catholicism twines in many soft and pleasing 
tendrils around a heart. Where there cannot be sunlight, 
the moonlight may do very well. Protestantism is a larger 
leap of mind; but we must not despise "the day of small 
things," nor think that ''wisdom will die with us." 

But here is the great old gray tower of Francis the First — 
two hundred and ninety years old. You ascend to its top, 
and look on a glorious sea, and sunset sea view. The 
tower is of large stone, and has long outlived its age, use, 
and generation. Here, in the old chivalrous ages of France, 
were confined rebellious, haughty, feudal subjects. The 
tears of captives have fallen on these gray, heartless stones. 
The sighs of chained ambition have gone out of these long, 
narrow port-holes. The basement descends deep into the 
earth, and from it is a subterranean passage, which led to 



38 HAVRE. 

an apartment directly under the Seine; within which, in 
old times, when Englaad and France were natural enemies, 
were confined more than five hundred prisoners taken in 
battle. A revolution in the government happened at this 
juncture. The persons who alone knew of the passage, for- 
got the existence of the prisoners; and when the excitement 
was over, they had all perished of starvation in this deep, 
dark, subterranean chamber. This tower was founded by 
Francis the First. Its principal use now is as a place of 
observation to see ships arriving from foreign ports. They 
can be seen about twenty-five miles off. The lower parts 
of the tower have wal]s over six feet thick. The stones of 
the upper parts are eaten into by Time; and mysterious 
ISTature attempts to fasten vegetation within the crevices 
whence Time has extracted the rock. Around the city you 
discover remains of its old walls. On the hill D'Ingouville 
you have splendid seats and fine views. On Sunday, if 
you are there on that day, you will find no Sabbath day. 
But you may find an American church in the rear of the 
new Hotel de Yille, in which you may hear doctrines, accents 
and ideas strangely at war with the religious desecration of 
the day, so common in all French and continental cities, 
and which remind you of the purer morals of your native 
land. 

But Eouen, the old Gothic Rouen, you must take in your 
course to Paris. It is many times older than Havre : it is 
older than Paris ; and it is one of the most interesting cities 
in France. Therefore we shall not exhaust our astonish- 
ment at the outset. We call on Mr. Yesey, the very able 
American consul at Havre, who treats us politely. We 
give him our hopes that Mr. Buchanan will keep him in 
office. We see a procession, which can be seen almost 
every day in continental towns, where the holidays are 
numerous, and the saints of past ages are duly honored. 
The women make up a large part of these processions. 



EOUEN. 89 

Ttie women, so far as we have observed, are tlie greatest 
institution in France. Thej do the clerk -business of the 
hotels; they sell you goods ; they are prompt, polite, pretty, 
and seem altogether to take precedence of the duller and 
slower m.ale sex. But 'tis time to leave. You pay your 
bill at the hotel. You find it reasonable, though you are 
charged for each item separately, for living on the conti- 
nent of Europe costs much less than in America. The 
agent, commissaire, or interpreter of the hotel — each hotel 
having an interpreter — assists you in regard to the procure- 
ment of tickets for the cars. You step into one of the first- 
class cars, though you have heard that none but fools and 
princes travel in the first-class cars, the second-class being 
nearly as good at a less price. But your American pride 
will not let you take any thing second-rate. You find the 
cars luxuriously furnished, far ahead of American ones, 
eight persons only being allowed in each. The cars start 
off* not with a tremendous, liver-dislocating jerk, as in 
America — not with a hideous, brain-bursting whistle, like 
the shriek of a rascal attorney when the Devil seizes his 
soul, (see Sidney Smith,) — but softly, easily, and quietly. 
Your bill at the hotel has not been over two dollars and a 
half per day, and you are not charged, on the cars, (Qrst- 
class) over four cents per mile. 

ROUEN. 

You have fifty-six miles to go through to Rouen, over a 
country more beautiful than your imagination had dreamed 
of. Portions of the route lie along the valley of the Seine, 
and part over highlands. It is the harvest-time, and the 
golden grain stands in its mantle of everlasting sunset, in 
many a field. No such vulgar things as crooked American 
fences are to be seen ; the beautiful hedges, well-cropped, 
divide the fields, intermingling some of which you see the 
grape-vine. You see beautiful clover-fields, flax, oats, 



40 ROUEN. 

orcliards ; you see the peasantry, apparently happy, at work 
in the fields, women among them. You see numerous cul- 
tivated groves of elms planted, regularly trimmed and dis- 
posed in avenues. You come to little, old, quaint villages, 
each with a solemn, Gothic old church, its spire pointing 
starward. You see the hats of the peasantry crowned with 
flowers. You go through four or five tunnels, several miles 
in length, some of them. You pass over a viaduct several 
hundred feet high. You rush down an inclined plane. 
You come to the queerest-looking assemblage of painted, 
peaked, irregular, old houses you ever saw. You pass 
through another tunnel, right under a town, and you stop 
abruptly in the centre of Rouen, the old capital of Nor- 
mandy, the town of fifteen hundred years old, out of which 
went forth the great William the Conqueror, with his sixty 
thousand Normans, who defeated Harold, the last of the Saxon 
kings of England, and founded a dynasty the most cele- 
brated in the world, with the single and sublime and super- 
natural exception of the kingdom of Judah, You get into 
a cab and drive to your hotel. A fragment of a young 
moon hangs up in the sky. The streets are nari-ow, crooked, 
angular ; every house standing in its own angle — every 
thing but straight. You seem in a place where everything 
is old, antique, weird, but mankind — mankind seem modern 
— and their dwellings mouldering, mementos of things de- 
parted. You and they seem like live things among monu- 
ments. Yet they are alive. That man there would sell 
you that coat for forty francs. That woman there is iron- 
ing clothes. These things savor of the present. You 
reach your hotel. Your window overlooks the Seine. In 
the moonlight and gaslight the old houses, and the narrow 
streets, (made purposely crooked, to prevent, in the old 
warlike ages, the attack of cavalry,) look like sepulchres. 

But next morning you go out and thread the serpentine 
streets. You come directly in contact with a large, long, 



KOUEN. 4:1 

old, gray Gothic- looking pile of stupendous stone buildings, 
many -pointed, bowed down with age, and looking won- 
drous pitiful in its exterior carved work and headless, time- 
eaten statuary. It is the Cathedral of Rouen — Ruin, sure 
enough. You enter and look down the avenues of immense, 
lofty Gothic columns. Through the stained windows — on 
each one painted a history — comes a ''dim, religious light." 
There are twenty-five smaller churches or chapels within, 
along the sides. On the floor are stones with inscriptions 
indicating the burial-places of English and French princes, 
and the heart of Richard Coeur de Lion. Rollo, the first 
Duke of Normandy, was buried here, in the year 917 A.D. 
But a Frenchman comes up to you and begins to talk 
vociferously. You discover he is one of those men who 
abound in all old European cities, called guides. You en- 
deavor to shake him ofi* for you want to be alone with your 
own thoughts ; but in vain, he cannot be shaken off — if you 
listen, you are lost. He wants to hurry you from one place 
to another, stretching out his arms theatrically toward each 
part. You walk on ; he follows. You offer him sous in 
self-defense, reseek your hotel, and hire a guide at five 
francs for the day, and resolve to explore the ruins of Rouen, 
and in doing so spend the day. If you are a gentleman 
and a scholar, don't employ a guide. Their incessant, vapid 
prattle prevents you from feeling and appreciating the just 
and proper effect of what you see. You are presumed to 
be acquainted with general history. You are not traveling 
in order to compile a work on statistical geography, and 
your own thoughts and observations will supply you with 
better materials than an ignorant guide, unless, perhaps in 
the first plac-e, as to the mere localities. But, if you will 
employ a guide, employ a Frenchman, he will be more 
minute and enthusiastic than an Eno-lishman. 

I stood in an irregular sort of open space, surrounded by 
old houses, in the centre of which rises an awkward-look- 

d2 



42 EOUEN. 

ing pedesta], surmounted by a statue of Joan of Arc, the 
Maid of Orleans — tlie heroic, high-souled, noble peasant 
girl, who, to the eternal disgrace of the English, was burnt 
on this spot, (then the market-place,) in May, 1431, under 
an accusation of sorcery, after the French army under her 
direction had several times defeated the English, restored 
their king and crowned him ; and, but for her being unfor- 
tunately taken prisoner when heading a sortie from a be- 
sieged city against the English, would most probably have 
expelled them from the kingdom. From the pedestal of the 
statue flow several fountains, from which the poor people 
of Rouen are supplied with water. 

But here is the church of Saint Ouen, perhaps the most 
ancient and indescribable of all the churches in Normandy^ 
with its wilderness of lofty old columns, on which, through 
the stained windows, eloquent with fine paintings, falls 
sadly the many-colored, rainbowed light. This church, 
formerly an abbey, dates, in its present erection, back more 
than six hundred years. The length, within the walls, is 
four hundred and fifty feet. It has one hundred and twenty- 
five windows. Around it is a beautifal garden with avenues 
of horse-chestnut trees, rich and rare flowers, a fountain, 
and it is partly surrounded by a portion of the old wall of 
the city, over which climbs the ivy. The church of Saint 
Maclou is also beautiful : and that of Saint Gervaise, where 
William the Conqueror died, has a deep crypt underneath, 
into which we entered, the arch of which is made of Roman 
brick, the cement being now as hard as the brick. It dates 
back to the third century. I stood in these churches, with 
their statuary, sculpture, images,, paintings, mausoleums, 
eflSgies, epitaphs around me, and reflected on the mightiness 
of the Catholic religion, and the power of the monks in the 
middle ages. Cumulatively, these piles of churches, with 
their adornments, attest powerfully the veraciousness of 
Scripture history. They could not have been erected to 



ROUEN. 43 

perpetuate fables. There are many fragmerits of the old 
walls of the city — on some of which are built houses ; there 
is a gateway or passage through one of these, called the 
gate of William the Conqueror ; there are some remains of 
the palace of the '' Acquirer," not the Conqueror of England, 
as Blackstone calls him ; there are the pulverized remains 
of the heart of Eichard Coeur de Lion, of England, the great 
chivalrous king and crusader, in the museum of antiquities 5 
there is an extensive and beautiful Boulevarde, or pablic 
drive, extending around the city, and occupying the place 
of the ancient moat ; there are numerous old fountains, sur- 
mounted by statuary ; there are streets, two, four, and six 
feet wide, with high, ruined houses on each side, which look 
dark, dirty, and murderous, and, in short, every thing un- 
like an American city. Of all the churches, that of Saint 
Ouen is the most admired. The interior of the church pro- 
duces the impression of being in a vast, old forest ; and the 
antique, painted windows, in their dim, old-age appearance, 
are almost as lovely as the richest sunset. The church is in 
the form of a Latin cross, and one end of it deviates from a 
straight line to represent the inclination of the Saviour's 
head to one side in the act of death. Two of the windows 
are especially pointed out, one of which was the work of the 
master, the other of his pupil, both buried here ; and the 
master is said to have died of jealousy of his pupil within 
six months after the completion of the work. In the 
Museum of Antiquities may be observed some charters in 
the old Gothic chirography of the middle ages, signed by 
the marh of William the Conqueror and Eichard the Lion- 
hearted, Avho were unable to write. From the new church 
of Bon Secours, within two miles of Eouen, may be seen one 
of the rarest and most splendid views which La Belle France 
affords. You have the many-islanded Seine, winding around 
its meadows, grain-fields, and high chalky hills. You 
have the Gothic Eouen with its ancient turreted churches. 



44 ROUEN. 

You have the stone and suspension bridges connecting parts 
of the town separated by the Seine. You have miles of 
gardens. You have old points where castles were in heroic 
ages. You have the iron spire of the Cathedral, rising 
more than four hundred feet high; and you have the 
ancient grave-yard of the church at your feet — a prayer in 
stone. 

Rouen contains about one hundred thousand inhabitants. 
It has extensive manufactories of cotton goods ; and though 
not so commercial a place as Havre, carries on by means of 
the Seine, — a river not half as large as the Ohio, — and rail- 
roads, considerable commerce. Some parts are becoming 
modernized ; and a lighter taste in architecture is superced- 
ing the Gothic style of the middle ages. The time will 
come when this, as well as all other Gothic towns, will be 
remodeled. Saint Ouen itself will cease to please, and the 
Gothic arches will topple and fall in fragments. Yet it is 
pleasant not to have lived when the world had no past. 
Adam and Eve had no antiquities — their earth had no past, 
unless Cuvier is right. Yet it is pleasant to retrospect the 
dim moonlit lights and shadows of the " things that were." 
But here we are on the cars to Paris — great Paris, distant 
eighty-seven miles — passing over a scene of beauty which 
America is too young by a thousand years to furnish forth. 
Many little old villages, with their tiled houses one story 
high, and their solemn church, around which the houses 
cluster, may be seen at one glance of the eye, nestling along 
the broad acclivities along the banks of the Seine. More 
abrupt peaks are surmounted by circular, ruined old towers, 
while green groves and beautiful gardens around stately 
brick and stone houses tell of high blood, refinement and 
gentility — while the country is one immense, chequered 
plantation, with alternate sections of different kinds of 
grain, and of various colors, ascending the hills ; while tall 
and trimmed Lombardy poplars, in avenues and lines, and 



PARIS. 45 

neat hedges, all do their own proper work of beautifying 
and utilizing. 

You cross the Seine seven or eight times. And much 
of the way is through total, pitchy darkness, on account of 
the number and length of the tunnels. But you enter 

PARIS. 

It impresses you favorably. Streets broad and clean, 
houses uniform, and a certain gladness or gayety, a sense 
of enjoying the present, and a polished exterior, seem to 
prevail all around. You are in a city whose history is 
dovetailed with, and ramified intO; that of every other 
country in Europe, more than that of any other city, and 
you survive. It begins to seem to you there are but four 
periods in the life of man — to be born, to get married, to 
be in Paris, and to die. Paris is an idea. Time has co- 
quetted with it, and it has experimented with all things on 
earth, and resolved simply to make the most of the present 
moment, leaving both past and future to take care of them- 
selves. It is the pleasantest city in the world beyond all 
doubt. But how various the significations of the word 
pleasure ? To the lover, a barren rock, 

"Grotto, mount, or cavern 
WWcIl serves the happy people for a tavern," 

if with his mistress, is a place of pleasure. To the scholar, 
the library ; to the monk, the cloister ; to woman, a bazaar ; 
to youDg ladies, a ball-room ; to misers, their money -chest : 
all are places of pleasure. 

But Paris offers the largest gratification to a larger num- 
ber of human faculties than any other city. It is a happy, 
worldly, sensual, devilish city — where every thing that is 
pleasant to the eye, and good for food, and to be desired to 
make one wise, can be found: every thing but the Tree of 
Life. The pulse of life here beats fast, and every pulsation 



46 PARIS. 

is for enjoyment. True, there is, there must be labor ; but 
when the labor is over — there is the theatre ; there are the 
promenades, the gardens, the fountains — the resorts of all 
kinds, characters, and reputes. It is not so deliberately and 
desperately wicked a place as New York, Boston, or Lon- 
don; but it is ga3^er — more thoughtless, heartless, irreclaim- 
able. It is better satisfied with this world than any other 
city. It has all the loveliness of the well-bred, genteel 
harlot. It has no need of God. All it wants is Mamuion 
and amusement. 

Paris has one million two hundred thousand inhabitants- 
about fifty thousand houses; more than thirteen hundred 
and fifty streets; twenty-eight bridges; is surrounded by 
seventeen forts ; defended by more than thirty -five thousand 
men; is connected by railroad with all Europe, and defended 
from the people within by more than five thousand soldiers. 
Paris first began to be on the island in the Seine — now near 
the middle of the city. The name given to it at first was 
Lutetia. The inhabitants were called Parisii, or borderers. 
Julius Caesar found them miserable savages, dwelling in 
huts ; and the country, which is now the refined capital of a 
powerful empire, covered with gloomy forests. The Eomans 
governed it for five hundred years. Childeric, a Grothic 
king, routed their power — established a dynasty which 
lasted two hundred and fifty-six years. How diversified 
the destinies of its Merovingian, Carlovingian, Capetian, 
and Bonaparte dynasties ! 

But a nearly round moon hangs visible to half the world 
at present. The windows of my room look out on the 
Tuilleries Palace ; in the central tower of which two bright 
lights are shining. The great bell of the church Notre 
Dame has been telling the hour of but one to midnight. 
Before me sleeps in silence the dense groves and beautiful 
gardens west of the Tuilleries Palace, and below me roar 
the carriages and pass the promenaders of the great street 



PAEIS. 47 

De Eivoli, gaslit and moonlit, full as bright as day, and 
extending near a mile. 

Hundreds of thousands of hearts are beating in their 
sleep around me, and here are the places through which 
have swept the revolutions of past ages. The waves of the 
past have washed ashore their rich wrecks, and left to the 
present their freight of ivhat was. The feet of many gene- 
rations here have walked on through their life-long extinct, 
and their frames gone into thin air. Oh, is man but a rich 
nothing, or is earth but his Genesis ! 

Here is the Place Yendome, and in its centre rises a 
a black, hollow column, sculptured on the outside with the 
incidents of many battles, and on its high top stands the 
statue of a man in deep, determined, desperate thought, 
with his long gray coat and three-cornei^ed hat. The build- 
ings around the square, or Place, are uniform, and are near 
two hundred years old. The column is one hundred and 
thirty-five feet high. The pedestal on which it stands is 
twenty -one feet high, ornamented with bronze bas-reliefs, 
cast out of twelve hundred pieces of cannon taken by 
Napoleon in his German wars. The figure on the top is 
the Man of France — Napoleon. It is highly characteristic, 
thoughtful and impressive. From that height he looks 
down now on his splendid capital — in which, after the dor- 
mancy of years, he now beholds the redintegration of his 
great ideas. The Napoleonic ideas are in the hands of one 
who could not have originated, but who is greater in con- 
serving and perpetuating them than their founder. The 
present Napoleon is solidifying the chaos of materials into 
unity, order and use, collected by the first. He can place a 
gendarme at the door of every house in France. And 
what could an army gain by revolting against the Napo- 
leonic dynasty? You would think, as you look on that 
statue, that the first Napoleon was indeed the child of 
Destiny — of a great Mission — splendidly pregnant in its 



48 PARIS. 

results to the world — but saddening to himself individually, 
"This simple soldier shall come to empire/' was a predic- 
tion uttered in respect to him in his youth ; and he seemed 
at times to be astonished and oppressed by the respon- 
sibilies he had evoked. The present man is not popular, 
but politic. The lirst was the most popular of all men. 
He spoke to the heart. The present man addresses the 
head. The first was an inspiration to France. The present 
is a good, strong, able, heartless ruler — a usurer, putting 
out to good account the vast popularity of his uncle. 
Never had uncle such a nephew ; never had nephew such 
an uncle. Louis Napoleon has grown great since he be- 
came emperor. All his powers have had ample occasion to 
operate, and they have developed him into a considerable 
man — decidedly ahead of any crowned head in Europe at 
present. Occasions make men, and men make occasions. 
At first he did not expect the success that has attended 
his coup d'etat; but he thought it was worthy the effort. 
France was tired of Vancien regime. A new govern- 
ment, especially the heroic empire, was refreshing. The 
French can endure a despotism better than dullness; and 
any government will please them that is gorgeous and 
glorious. A republic is too plain and simple. The French 
emperor possesses the rare and singular talent in those who 
have power, of knowing what not to do. 

I have been in Pere la Chaise, the beautiful, where Death 
is denuded of all his terrors ; and the tombs wear a smiling 
and pleasing appearance, arrayed in immortelles, circlets 
of flowers — mementos of fond but not deathless sorrow — 
streets of tombs, sentiment in stone — and every thing 
French, and fanciful. 'Tis really a pleasant place, with its 
variously sculptured tombs, its fine trees, and the great 
view of Paris obtained from it. The tomb of Abelard and 
Heloise is the most interesting — that pretty though mourn- 
ful story, appealing most powerfully to a people so senti- 



PARIS. 49 

mental. " The ashes of Abelard and Heloise are at length 
united," is one of the inscriptions on it. There thej are, 
represented in the attitude of death, sculptured in marble, 
under a stone canopy, lying side by side. It is, if I 
recollect aright, seven hundred years since they died, and 
yet their peculiarly romantic and pathetic history comes 
down from the middle ages with all the adornments 
of chivalry, superstition, and sorrow. There are twenty 
thousand monuments here. The custom of sculpturing the 
deceased on his own monument, in the apparel of the dead, 
has, to our American antecedents, something revolting. 
Many of the inscriptions have great chasteness of language, 
brevity, and beauty. One of black marble has no name nor 
date — nothing but '•' Pray for his soul." Another, that of 
him who was a traitor to his king, but true to his own 
instincts and to his heart's recognized idol — Marshal Ney, 
the "Bravest of the brave," the preserver of the "Grand 
Army" from total destruction in Kussia, has only — " Stop, 
traveler, thou treadest on a hero !" The friends of the 
heroic marshal stole him a grave here. The king, Louis 
XYIII., ought to have forgiven the subject for the sake of 
the man. One — that of the Princess Demidoff — cost sixty 
thousand dollars. 

'Tis a scene of lugubrious magnificence here ; and one 
would think, on seeing these epitaphs, the Parisian popula- 
tion had been the most virtuous in the world. 

I saw a Catholic funeral of one of the lower orders while 
strolling around. The relatives of the deceased sprinkled 
holy water into the grave. Bouquets and other mementos 
were thrown in. A wooden cross, erected at the head, 
adorned with bouquets and beads. The priest blessed 
them. They all went cheerfully away — for French feeling, 
is not very deep — and the life of Paris is so gay and pleas- 
ant there is not time to spend it in being sorry for the dead. 

I have visited the great Versailles — the embodiment of 
4 E 



60 PARIS. 

the kingly grandeur of the great days of the Louises. With- 
out doubt it is the greatest royal palace in Europe. It cost, 
it is said, two hundred millions of dollars; and the debts 
contracted — or rather enlarged — in constructing it, are said 
to have been one of the causes of the French Revolution 
According to modern ideas the palace itself is not high 
enough, considering its great extent ; and the same remark 
may be made of the Tuilleries and the Palais Royal in 
Paris. Yersailles — the city — consists of a number of beau- 
tiful streets and avenues around the palace. Formerly the 
city contained one hundred thousand inhabitants. JSTovV; 
since the residence of the monarch is fixed at the Tuilleries, 
St. Cloud, or Fontainebleau, it contains not more than thirty 
thousand. It is about seventeen miles from Paris — there 
being two railways — one on the right, the other on the left 
bank of the Seine. It is a place of great resort on Sun- 
days — the attractions presented being the delightful walks 
and promenades through the great park around the palace, 
the magnificent jets of water, the fine gardens, shrubbery, 
oraugeries, and statues. The park consists of hundreds of 
acres, and has two other palaces in it, built for the mistresses 
of Louis XI Y. The palace has not been inhabited by the 
royal families of France since the Revolution. It is a vast 
museum ; consecrated, as an inscription, on the fagade, 
announces, " To all the Glories of France." Entering, you 
walk through seven miles of magnificent rooms, adorned 
with more than three thousand fine paintings — more than 
one thousand of which are battle scenes. There are also 
statues— casts of tombs. There is a theatre; there is a 
chapel — a most gorgeous one ; by the way there are 
dancing halls, halls of audience, throne-rooms, reception- 
rooms — marbled, gilt, glorious and grand. You are shown 
the room, with its bed, where Louis le Grand died. In the 
principal court-yard, between two of the wings, is a fine 
equestrian statue of the king, in an attitude of command : 



PARIS. 61 

and near him are many other statues of French marshals 

and heroes. 

It. 

Approaching the palace on that side produces a most 
imposing efiect on the mind. There are guides, or guards 
in uniform, in each room, whose department it is to take 
care of that room. The effect of the whole is rather sad- 
dening, however. To one having such a palace it is almost 
a pity there should be such a thing in the world as death. 
One's mind is strongly led back to the eras of the middle 
ages — the Crusades ; and that kind of chivalrous glory we 
can never have in America, for we have, as yet, no past, no 
hereditary monarchs. The old world has worn out all 
those ideas, and we only make ourselves ridiculous by 
attempting an imitation of them. Our destiny is simple, 
rough usefulness — no saints, heroes, marshals, battles. We 
battle with forests and conquer nature — making money 
instead of achieving glory — elevating the masses instead of 
the few. This is our happy age. The age of glory will 
come by and by : for human nature, in the course of empire, 
will run in the same channels in the future as in the past. 
There are busts or pictures of all the kings of France 
down to the present emperor, through a course of fourteen 
hundred years. There are paintings of the historical places 
and persons of all times. The palace is more than two 
hundred years old, and begins to exhibit some of the decay 
and neglect consequent on its ceasing to be a royal resi- 
dence. The stately old trees of the park are in all their 
glory, and greater than in old days, when they witnessed 
the feasts and revelries of Louis XIY. and his mistresses. 

St. Cloud is eight or ten miles nearer Paris than Versailles, 
and is one of the summer residences of the present Emperor. 
The views from the elegantly laid-off grounds of its park 
are beautiful ; the artificial cascades and jets of water in 
various places are splendid as royalty and wealth could 
make them. This was the favorite dwelling-place of Na- 



52 PAEIS. 

poleon and Josephine. The walls of royal palaces see some 
strange deY,elopments. When France was conquered bj the 
Allies in 1815, Blucher made his dogs sleep in the apart- 
ments of the Empress. Wear St. Clond is the great porce- 
lain manufactory of Sevres. This is very interesting ; there 
is a museum of the productions of all countries and ages, 
in the department of pottery. The vases, paintings on 
glass, and various manufactures of the place, exceed in 
beauty and costliness, all others. They are not sold, but 
intended as adornments of the royal palaces, and as presents 
to foreign potentates. Many of them are works of extra- 
ordinary value. 

But the Louvre, that museum of museums ! It is indeed 
the great attraction of Paris. What must it have been 
when it contained the spoils, the gems, the chefs d^oeuvres of 
all lands, collected in the wars of Napoleon, all of which 
were returned at his downfall ! Whatever a conquered 
capital contained of art or genius, the imperial autocrat 
commanded to be transported to this museum. The Louvre 
(which word is said to be derived from the French Voeuvre — 
'' the work,") is a splendid place, with one of the most impos- 
ing fa§ades or fronts — that toward the east — in the world. 
It was begun by Francis I., about 1541. It was the dream of all 
the French monarchs, but unaccomplished by them all — even 
by Napoleon I. — to connect the Louvre by lateral buildings 
or pavilions to the grand Chateau des Tuilleries — perhaps 
near fifteen hundred feet off— toward the west. This has, how- 
ever, been done by the present Emperor ; the two are now 
connected, forming perhaps the most splendid pile of build- 
ings in the world, and enclosing several grand squares or 
places^ courts, etc., for the display of the military reviews; 
there are also' some fine gardens. The Seine is on one side, 
and the magnificent Eue de Rivoli on the other, the latter 
consisting of uniform houses about seven stories high, sup- 
ported on arcades, and making, especially at night, when 



PARIS. 53 

gaslit, the finest display of mirrored shops, hotels, etc., in 
the world. It is nearly a mile long, and part of it fronts on 
the gardens of the Tuilleries palace. The palace of the 
Tuilleries, which word is said to be derived from the tiles 
or bricks formerly made there, was begun by Mary of 
Medicis, one of the French queens, about the year 1564 It 
is the present winter residence of tbe Emperor. I have 
been all through it as well as the Louvre ; the latter is open 
to the public eYery day except Monday ; the former, during 
the absence of the imperial family, by a special ticket of 
admission. Its rooms abound in splendor and richness, all 
the resources of wealth and taste. Gold, gilding, and glass, 
marble statues, paintings, lofty and carved ceilings, chande- 
liers, ball-rooms, dining-rooms, reception-rooms, throne- 
rooms — all the encumbrances and superfluity of royalty 
are here. The rooms are full of historical interest, of things 
connected with Napoleon, Josephine, Maria Louisa, Louis 
Philippe. Revolution after revolution has swept the 
crowned things from these halls. There the face of power 
has paled and given up the diadem ; the empire of the world 
has been snatched from the hands of ambition, and pride 
has been humbled to the dust in the halls of its own crea- 
tion and enjoyment. In that room the heirs of empires 
have been born ; in this, monarchs have looked their last on 
earth. One seems almost surfeited with splendor in such a 
scene, and feels as if he would like to go out and recline in 
the mighty shade of a primitive American forest, where the 
tall grasses are the harp-strings on which the breeze of even- 
ing plays soft music. We were present at the fete by 
w^hich was celebrated the completion of the Louvre. It was 
on the 13th of August, and the principal performances 
were in the great court of the Louvre and Tuilleries. There 
were many thousands of people collected. The carriages of 
state, which were emblazoned in magnificent style, bearing 
the principal ministers of the state departments, the near rela- 

e2 



54 PAEIS. 

tives of the Emperor, and last of all, tlie Emperor himself, 
and Empress, came out from the court of the Tuilleries? 
passed under a lofty and magnificent triumphal arch — the 
work of the first ISTapoleon — preceded by a line of soldiers, 
keeping the crowd off, into the grand court of the Louvre, 
called the Place Napoleon III., to one of the pavilions, 
where the guests dismounted, and the Emperor made a 
speech to the principal workmen engaged in completing 
the Louvre ; after which they returned in procession to the 
Tuilleries. I had a tolerably near view of the Emperor 
and Empress, both of whom seemed in excellent health and 
spirits, bowing courteously to the people, who seemed glad- 
dened by their approach, but made no demonstrations. 
The Emperor is more useful to the French people than they 
are to him. They feel safe from attacks without^ and con- 
vulsions within, while under his government. The secretive- 
ness of the Emperor cannot secrete itself There are de- 
signs and far-lookings on that face enveloped in a cloud of 
mute mysteriousness — a kind of able comprehensiveness — 
a countenance that tells that it will not tell. It is rare that 
an able man, a man of decided general ability, occupies a 
throne. Probably there are as many naturally able men 
who appear on the lists of tailors or shoemakers, or any 
other usefnl and industrious class, as on the lists of monarchs. 
At present, with the exception of Louis Napoleon, there 
sits not an able monarch on any of the thrones of Europe. 
That of England is occupied by a good wife and mother, 
but a mediocre woman in regard to talent. In the times 
of the first Napoleon, there were no able monarchs in 
Europe. That of England was occupied by a lunatic. 
Great ambitions, evironed by great difficulties, make great 
men. 

It is common for American papers to decry and under- 
rate Louis Napoleon. Without doubt he has more right 
to the French throne than any nephew or descenda?n of 



xAKTS. 55 

Pharamond, Charlemagne, Hugh. Capet, or any other founder 
of any dynasty. In no instance did any of these obtain the 
throne by either a real or farcical election, but by conquest 
or intrigue. The majority in favor of Louis Napoleon's 
empire was between six and seven millions (the first Na- 
poleon had more than three millions majority) ; and the 
elections were as fair and unbiased as many of the elections 
in our own country or in Great Britain ; and no one can 
doubt that he has more votes in his favor than the Orleans 
or Bourbon competitors. As to a French republic, it has 
proved, practically and experimentally, a fallacious idea. 
When it was strong, it became a Reign of Terror. When 
it was weak, as in 1848, it became contemptible. The 
French want a man at the head of affairs, around whom 
cluster a train of romantic and martial associations ; they 
worship glory, and they w^ant an embodiraeht of glory as 
their ruler — not schemers, plodders, poets, or politicians. The 
resolution of the occurrences of 1848 into Napoleonism, was 
natural, jast, and necessary. France wanted a new dynasty. 
The old ones had ceased to be glorious. The old soldiers 
of the empire were yet alive, limped about, and talked of 
heroic things done under him. The heart-speaking w^ords, 
" I wish my ashes to repose on the border of the Seine, in 
the midst of the French people whom I have loved so 
well," were read daily on the tomb of the Emperor. Na- 
poleon II. had been done to death by the Emperor of Aus- 
tria, Fanny Ellsler, and the Jesuits. There was a man, 
though of rather equivocal character, romantic, chivalrous, 
a scholar, in exile — in prison, at times — an author, a believer 
in his destiny, occasionally a conspirator, and who inherited 
the blood of Napoleon and Josephine both. His accession was 
therefore a natural and necessary eve at. Napoleon I. said, 
if he could but be his own grandson, he would be irresisti- 
ble. The present man is, therefore, the child of the present 
destinies set on foot by the first Napoleon. 



56 ■ PAEIS. 

On Saturday, the 15tli August, was celebrateS the fete of 
St. Napoleon, the patron saint of the Emperor, after whom 
he was named — he being an obscure saint, and having no 
day in the calendar, was admitted to this honor after the 
vie of the Emperor — the Pope giving him the birthday of 
the Emperor, which is also the same as that of the Assump- 
tion of the Virgin Mary, so that the three fetes are all 
celebrated. The day proved somewhat rainy ; nevertheless 
there were most brilliant displays of the military on the 
Champ deMars; sham-battles: the French battles in Algiers 
were thrice fought and won ; a huge fort was taken ; then 
there was an aerial chase — several figures, resembling stags, 
and inflated with gas, were, like balloons, let off into the air, 
then followed hounds, horsemen, footmen. The scene was 
magnificent. The approaches to the Champ de Mars were 
filled with the most extraordinary medley of shops, trades, 
vendors of all kinds of wares. I never saw such a Babel. 
There were probably two hundred thousand persons or 
more collected on the great parade-ground — the Champ de 
Mars. Here the great Emperor reviewed his troops in the 
days of his prosperity ; and here took place the last review 
previous to the irruption into Belgium, which led to the 
battle of Waterloo. After night the display of fireworks 
was both beautiful and tremendous. The Tuilleries gar- 
dens, the Champ d'Elysses, were brilliant with every kind 
of deviceful arrangement of lamps — the name Napoleon 
being spelt in every possible way. The fireworks were up- 
ward cataracts of many -colored lights — meteors ascending to 
great distances, breaking into beautiful forms and colors. 
In short, the whole great-hearted, enthusiastic city was 
rapt into the past, and the exile of St. Helena, breaking his 
precious mementos of happier times to pieces to sell them 
in order to get bread — denied by the inhuman rascal of a 
governor the long-coveted portrait of his own child — the 
noble lion nibbled to death by the sneaking, mean, cur — 



PAEIS. 57 

the man who was never greater than when enduring at St. 
Helena, mio'ht have beheld in this scene the eventual his- 
toric justice of posterity. At night there were given gratu- 
itous representations in all the theatres. The theatres are 
governmental institutions in Paris, it being a part of the 
prerogative of the monarch to provide amusements for the 
people, as in ancient Rome; the people in most of these 
countries being regarded as a huge, blind monster, that re- 
quires to be amused, lest it should exert its as yet uncon- 
scious strength. The theatres all receive subsidies from 
the government; and as, in reality, there is no school so 
efiectual in forming taste, sentiment, and creating ideas, as 
the stage, a direct control is thereby obtained over public 
opinion. Every thing is centralized in the hands of the 
Emperor; the railways are "under his immediate control, 
and, in fact, most of them belong to the government. The 
object of Louis Napoleon seems to popularize and inaugu- 
rate the era of wise despotisms, and to base every thing on 
the present dynasty : all honors, rewards, all nobility, all 
institutions — every thing in the state must rest on the Na- 
poleonic dynasty as a substratum. 

I have been in many of the points of interest in Paris. 
The government manufactory of the Gobelin tapestry is an 
interesting place. The art of painting is there rivaled by 
the skillful interweaving of colors into the tapestry. Many 
of these are truly wonderful and life-like. Some of the 
works of this kind will require eight or ten years for their 
completion. They are used in the adornments of the royal 
palaces, and sometimes as presents to foreign potentates. 
Many of the rooms resemble a vast picture gallery ; others 
are used by the workmen, where you can see the artists en- 
gaged in weaving and blending the various minute shades 
of colors of silk or cotton threads, and the picture growing 
up under their hands into a " thing of beauty." 

I have also been in, under, and on the various remark- 



68 PAEIS. 

able churches of the city. Notre Dame, with its two grand 
towers, in one of which is the great bell which requires 
eight men to toll, and which is rung only on grand occa- 
sions. I heard a TeDeum performed here on the Emperor's 
birthday. The music was fine, and the great organ rever- 
berating along the columned aisles, produced an imposing 
effect. But the bell was awfully musical. It was subdued 
thunder. Evening and morning here, for one thousand 
years past, has the Mass proclaimed the sufferings of Christ. 
It is so large, that in wandering through it, you come to 
various and distinct congregations in different parts of the 
church, assembled in chapels. They are often diminutive, 
old, superstitious-looking women, who cross themselves as 
you pass, to avoid the evil a heretic might impress on them 
in passing, inasmuch as you neither sprinkle yourself with 
holy water nor bow to the shrine of the Yirgin. There is 
the beautiful Madeleine, too, looking like a Greek temple 
with fine paintings, and where the music is excellent; there 
is the middle-age looking church, San Germain Auxerrois, 
whose bell tolled the signal for the massacre of St. Bartholo- 
mew's Day, August 24:tb, 1576, when thousands of Protest- 
ants were shot, and when the miserable King Charles IX. 
fired on his own subjects from the Louvre palace, opposite 
the church ; also the Pantheon, with its singular, subter- 
ranean, reverberating apartments, with the monuments to 
the great men of France. There is one to Yoltaire, who, 
inasmuch as he doubted whether he had a soul, the epitaph 
writers courteously waved that question, and inscribed the 
tomb "to his manes" — thus meeting on neutral ground. 
Then there is, alongside of it, the church St. Etienne du 
Mont — architecturally very quaint — with towers, gables, 
groined and corniced-work, its relics of St. Genevieve, and 
its abbey-like appearance — its assumed miraculous cures — 
for in some of these places the superstitions of the tenth 
century are lingering like mists. 



PARIS. 69 

I have been in the Luxembourg palace also, now the 
Senate palace of the French government. There is here a 
fine picture gallery, composed of works of living French 
artists. The Senate chamber is a splendid hall ; the grounds 
around the palace are almost equal, in taste and beauty, to 
those about the Tuilleries, being adorned with statues, and 
very extensive. They are in the old part of the city, near 
the Latin quarter; the schools, colleges, medical universi- 
ties, catacombs, and queer things generally, I stood, T:iear 
these grounds, on the spot where Marshal ISTey was shot. 
Of late there has been erected, on the spot, a fine monument 
to his memory, with all the pompous names and titles of 
the brave Ney thereon. On the opposite side of the city, 
outside of the great line of fortifications, is the strong fort 
or' Chateau de Yincennes. With a special permission, I 
strolled through this place, ascended the very high tower 
to its summit, whence extends a glorious view ; saw the 
armory with its many hundred thousands of stands of arms 
of very many kinds, all in excellent order, and many of most 
ingenious construction, and some very rare. Here War 
sits enthroned, and looks powerful and terrible. The can- 
nons are of all kinds ; but in the midst of this display of the 
artillery of death, is a splendid old Cathedral in the Gothic 
style, in which there is regular service twice a day. The 
fort is surrounded by a deep fosse or ditch, in one part of 
which are three small trees growing, which mark the place 
where the unfortunate Duke d'Enghien was shot by order 
of the first Kapoleon, one of his tyrannous acts, and one 
which no explanation can thoroughly justify. Some assert 
that on hearing of the prompt fulfillment of his orders by 
the commanding officer, he exclaimed, "The wretch! he 
has been too hasty !" But, in his last will at St. Helena, he 
declared that in similar circumstances he would do the same 
thing again, since the young duke was one of sixty conspi- 
rators maintained in Paris by the Bourbons to assassinate 



60 PAEIS. 

him The object of ISTapoleon was to strike terror into the 
hearts of the Bourbons by a dreadful example; but it was 
the terror of deeper-rooted hate he produced. 

I have also seen the " Tomb of the Emperor," which is 
visible to the people twice a week, in the church of the 
Hotel des Invalides, the latter a hospital for wounded and 
superannuated soldiers. The old soldiers act as guides 
around this place ; and some of them mount guard at the 
entrance, and stand by the side of the tomb. The latter is 
yet unfinished; and the body reposes in one of the side 
chapels of the church. The hat and sword of the Emperor 
are there, and many of the flags taken in his " world- win- 
ning battles." The tomb, which is of red Finland granite, 
will rest in a deep circular crypt, directly under the dome 
of the church. The church itself is magnificent, floored 
with fine marble; and through the peculiar, semitransparent 
glass of the windows, fall the day-beams like perpetual sun- 
set. There is a quaintness about this part of the city that 
is grandly impressive. You read '' Tombeau de I'Empe- 
reur," at various places. You need not ask what Emperor. 
The old soldier led us about; showed the museum in the 
hospital — and passing a marble bust of the Emperor, kissed 
it with singular enthusiasm. The old Napoleon is at rest 
and his glory is full. 

The Hotel de Cluny is an old building of the middle ages, 
now used as a museum of antiquities. It consists of very 
many rooms, with much carved-work on oak of those old 
times, ancient paintings taken out of demolished churches, 
mosaics, old suits of armor, relics of great men, beds on 
which monarchs died, statues of all times, Eoman and 
middle-age, tombs cut in stone, and carved figures, effigies 
of the departed. Adjoining it are the Thermes or Baths, a 
Roman building, supposed to have been built by Julian the 
Apostate, when governor of Gaul, and to have been the 
residence, for a time, of Constantine the Great. It has high, 



PAEIS. 61 

vaulted apartments, subterranean passages, sculptured frag- 
ments of Eoman divinities. The palace has a solemn 
appearance. You almost feel as if there had been dark things 
done there by despotic, irresponsible, cruel power. The 
evergreen ivy has grown around most of the building, 
which stares at you in wearisome age ; and:, though it is in 
the central part of the old city, there is a pretty yard, 
planted with trees, and ornamented with grassy lawns 
around it. 

After all, however, the Bois de Boulogne and the Boule- 
vardes are the great attractions of Paris. The former con- 
sists of about two hundred acres, outside the city, passing 
along the Elysian Fields and the Barrier (or gate) de I'Etoile, 
and near a grand triumphal arch erected by the first 
Napoleon to himself and the Grand Army. The park or 
woods of Boulogne may be considered the most agreeable 
place in Europe, for riding, driving, or promenading. 
There are long and beautiful avenues, gardens, borders of 
flowers ; there are lakes, streams of water, with artificial 
cascades, which you can go under ; there are theatres, cafes, 
and restaurants; concerts every day; ruins; solemn and 
stately woods, formerly a noted place for duelling. This is 
the usual evening ride or drive: Emperor, Empress, King 
or peasant, foreign nobleman and retired citizen, coaches 
and six or cab hired at a franc an hour, all are here, in this 
scene of sunlight and beauty. The Champs Elysees, inside 
the walls, is the usual place for promenading, the stream 
of carriages to the Bois de Boulogne passing through it. It 
has several out-door theatres, evening concerts, a circus, 
some beautiful fountains, seats to rest on, and fine trees 
planted, the shade of which renders the place pleasant at all 
times, while the fountains cool the air and the various 
passers; the statues, the palaces, the Palace of Industry, a 
crystal palace, being near this, give interest and diversion 
to the scene. 

P 



62 PAEIS. 

Between these and the gardens of the Tuilleries Palace, 
is the Place de Concorde, formerly Place de la Kevolu- 
tion, because here the gnillotine stood, on which twenty- 
eight hundred victims of the French revolution were 
decapitated, including the king, Louis XYI. On the place 
where the guillotine stood is now a splendid Egyptian obe- 
lisk, brought from Luxor, with its mute Syenitic hierogly- 
phics ; and surrounding the square, which has also two most 
beautiful fountains, are statues, allegoric of the principal 
cities of France; and in full view are various splendid 
palaces belonging to the state departments, and also the 
palace of the Tuilleries, the gardens intervening, with their 
lofty groves of elm.s, their lively fountains, and fine statues 
of marble and bronze. Here; is a delicious promenade for 
all classes — children, nurses, boys ; and here, as well as in 
the square, enclosed by the wings of the Palais Eoyal, may 
be heard fine military music, performed by a large band 
each evening. This keeps up the military spirit, which is 
the source of many of the ennobling and elevating feelings 
of man. The love of glory is not a useless thing. Men 
deteriorate, become low and groveling, whose pursuits are 
merely buying, selling, and shopkeeping. It is necessary 
to have occasional wars to arouse up mankind, to make 
great men, to stimulate and energize the sluggish blood of 
monotonous life. He is a simpleton who goes about crying 
''Alas!" over any people, for all have that in themselves 
which to them is best, or are proceeding toward it in the 
best way ; or who would quadrate the great ocean of multi- 
tudinous humanity by the quart-pot of his own little 
individuality. To do what one can, where one can, how 
one can, and as one can, is the whoJe duty of man ; and 
one's destiny is simply the mute wantings and tendencies 
of the relations of things, the utterings of what woukl like 
to be, and with which our will may either coalesce or 
not. . 



PAEIS. 63 

August IStli. But we have now been in Paris some 
three weeks — ^Paris the superb, the cynosure of the world ! 
Paris is the full, fresh, vigorous, modern world in action 
It is healthy human life in operation. Here all the arts are 
done, and well done. The strife of energy aud emulation 
brings out all that is in the heart. Every body must live 
on a specialty, and every specialty must have a man or 
woman — for here the women are truly co-workers with man 
— and without claiming any peculiar rights, or considering 
themselves divested of any privileges, seem content to do 
all their duty in their own recognized sphere, and assist 
their lords in theirs. It is the Eome of modern days. Its 
sunny, bright air, its healthfulness, its excellent police — 
which renders all parts safer than anv American citv — the 
long line of arcades and uniform buildings on the Eue de 
Eivoli — the brilliant Boulevards, wide, airy, and thronged 
with gay promenaders — the splendid imperial corteges that 
gallop along the streets like a dream of power in glory — 
the associations connected with that stern, silent, sad-look- 
ing man who bears the name of Bonaparte, whose dazzling 
story thrills the hearts of our boyhood's years — the beauti- 
ful Empress — all these render Paris the most attractive of 
cities. Then there is the great Louvre, with its collections 
of all times : Assyrian, Egyptian, the mysterious, supersti- 
tious middle-age; there are the stately churches; the splendid 
cafes, shops, gardens, the Champ d'Elysees, are all pleasant 
and pleasure-giving. But we are off*: so adieu to all, espe- 
cially the Hotel Meurice, with its good and fresh coffee, 
milk, bread and butter, and its clean service. We depart 
on our course toward the south of France, by railway travel- 
ing at night, and thus seeing but little of the country. But 
the next morning's sun rising over the Jura mountains of 
Switzerland, on our left, disclosed the fair vine-fields of 
beautiful France, giving promise of a glad vintage, and drop- 
ping rich dew which shattered the sunlight into a thousand 



64: FRANCE. 

colors. The harvest was just over, and a ligTit fog, wTiicli 
lay over the valley of the Saone, lifting itself up like a 
gauze, semitransparent curtain, we saw the golden wheat- 
fields, in oblong patches, ascending the hill-slopes ; and side 
by side, were similar fields or meadows without fences, or 
separated by avenues of poplars, all of which, with the 
antique villages, long-spired churches, or ivy-clad ruins, 
showed well in the gray fog-light, contrasting with the dark 
and bleak outline of the mountains. At Macon, our route 
diverged to the left ; the railway penetrated the Jura moun- 
tains, passing through a vast chasm, at the bottom of which 
flowed a rapid torrent or branch of the Saone. Many of the 
views were of the most lovely character ; the steep moun- 
tain sides cultivated in small) benches , or parterres, to their 
summits; the Swiss-looking, but comfortable, old, gabled, 
groined and carved cottages ; the peculiarly wild appearance 
of the Jura mountains, which, in some places, looked like a 
suddenly solidified storm : these all swept into our view as 
we passed. 

The French cars are divided into three classes : first, 
second and third. There is, in some of them, a car called the 
coupe^ superior to the first, as it admits of an unobstructed 
view over the whole country, in front as well as on each 
side. It contains but four persons; the first-class cars con- 
taining eight; the second, ten; the third-class, about thirty 
persons, each class being at a different price — the coupe is 
the highest; which, as well as the first and second-class 
cars, are mucb more comfortably and luxuriously furnished 
than are the cars in America. I had been sitting in the 
coupe alone, when a lady and gentleman entered, who, on 
seeing me, testified some displeasure, as they probably ex- 
pected to appropriate it to themselves. They were French ; 
the lady was young and "beautiful exceedingly," with 
those dangerous, cheery, attractive kind of eyes, which 
ladies will have sometimes; the gentleman was much older. 



FEANOE. 65 

but agreeably mannered. They seated themselves together 
at one end of the cushioned sofa ; and, absorbed in looking 
at the scenery, I did not, at first, pay much attention to 
them, till the frequent recurrence of a somewhat soft, explo- 
sive kind of noise, immediately followed by a change of 
position, so as to glance at me, attracted my notice. It now 
became evident that the object of this glance was to see that 
I did not see, and I became equally desirous to see why I 
was not to see. Yet how was this to be done consistently 
with etiquette ? And what was this noise, this tender ex- 
plosion, that I heard ? I was plainly de trop, one too many. 
In this state of uncertainty, anxiety on their part and curi- 
osity on mine, we rode some distance; but whenever my 
attention became absorbed in any thing external, and I ap- 
peared abstractedly forgetfal of my companions, I was> 
recalled to consciousness by a kind of echo of '^ sweetness 
long drawn out." At last they were able to calculate the 
precise length of my occasional abstractions, and profiting 
thereby, took occasion to produce several slightly musical 
concussions, while I seemed to be intently engaged in sur- 
veying the jagged points of that mountain away up yonder. 
On one occasion, however, when their long exemption from 
detection had made them feel secure, and politeness could 
no longer command me in my constrained position, I 
turned around, and saw the cause of all, in that labial con- 
taction known as kissing. 'Twas but a moment, yet how 
delicious the embarrassment on her pretty and gentle face. 
I was, however, immediately rajDt into contemplation of the 
scenery again, and turning myself inveterately around, left 
my French friends to their enjoyments. They were prob- 
ably on their wed ding- tour among the Alps, having been, 
probably, married that morning. We at length arrived at 
the little town of Seyssel, among the mountains, where the 
railway terminated, (since completed to Geneva,) where we 
saw the rushing, rapid Rhone. We had passed through 
5 f2 



6Q GENEVA. 

portions of the region producing the fine Burgundy wines 
of France. At Seyssel, entering that singular-looking 
vehicle, a Diligence, with five horses to draw us, three in 
front and two attached immediately to the carriage, having 
about twenty persons inside, we crossed the Ehone, leaving 
France and entering Savoy, a province of the kingdom 
of Sardinia. Our baggage was here examined, and our 
passports inquired into, which all being eri regie, or all 
right, we were delivered up to the beggars. For, while 
calmly seated in the vehicle, I discovered a number of hands 
stretched out toward us, which, on examination, I found 
proceeded from most ragged, wretched-looking humans, who 
stood behind them, whom I had not noticed previously on 
account of their silent, Niobe-like postures. There were 
gray-haired men, women and children. Up high hills and 
vast mountains, our course now lay ; fine views wherever 
the eye turned ; but gray -haired beggars, with locks stream- 
ing in the wind, followed us for miles, to get the sous the 
benevolence or irritation of the travelers prompted them to 
bestow. After a long and romantic ride, during which we 
had frequent and fine views of the Ehone, which, in one 
place, is lost under vast rocks, we descended into the extra- 
ordinarily beautiful valley near Lake Geneva, in which 
the 

CITY OP GENEVA 

is situated. The transition from the heat, dust, and ex- 
citement of Paris, to this pleasant city, surrounded by 
the most picturesque and lofty mountains, and sitting by 
the side of the Ehone, which here — having passed through 
Lake Geneva, comes out as blue as a section of an Italian 
summer's day — is most delightful and cheering. The air 
is cool, on account of the proximity to the snowy Alps. 
The lake is in length about fifty miles, ten or twelve broad, 
and not much unlike, in shape, to a crescent moon. Geneva 
has about thirty thousand inhabitants. We stopped at the 



GENEVA. 67 

Hotel de I'Ecu, an excellent place, witH many of its rooms 
lookino- out on the lake. The environs of Geneva are de- 
lightful, but it does not require a long time to exhaust the 
curiosities of the city. Much of the city is built on the 
slope of a hill. The fruits here we find excellent, in all 
varieties, and in great profusion and cheapness. The mar- 
kets are held principally along the sides of the streets ; the 
variety of Swiss costumes here seen is very great. There 
are very many remains of the fortifications and walls of the 
middle ages, with the outside moat. The manufacture of 
watches, works in gold, ornaments of glass, coral, pictures, 
etc., seem to occupy a principal share in the industry of the 
people. They are chiefly Protestants : and Sunday is better 
observed here than in French cities. The language is prin- 
cipally French, with some German. I went into the old 
Cathedral, formerly a Catholic church, but since the Eeform- 
ation, (with which Geneva had a great deal to do,) it has 
been divested of its ornaments, images, and pictures, and 
consecrated to the humbler, less gorgeous, but probably 
more sincere services of Protestantism. Here Calvin 
preached for many years. I sat in his chair, and ascended 
into his pulpit, from which he preached to the. people, and 
uttered his denunciations against heretics and Catholics. 
Beyond all question, his was one of the most astute and vig- 
orous minds of his age ; a little disposed to tyranny, he was 
still a man of mighty effort, and ruled Geneva, politically 
as well as ecclesiastically, in such a manner as to stamp his 
ideas on the since succeeding times. There is, in this Cathe- 
dral, a singular, old, carved collection of wooden benches or 
seats, on which, the guide told us, one of the great general 
councils had sat : that, if I recollect aright, which con- 
demned John Huss to be burnt. In the cemetery of Geneva, 
I saw the names of some distinguished Englishmen, who, 
resorting to Geneva for health, had died there. One of the 
number was Sir Humphrey Davy. Applying to the guide 



68 CHAMOUNI. 

for information; I was conducted to one of the most impres- 
sive tombs in the world, that of John Calvin. It consisted 
of nothing but a small marble block, not one foot in height, 
with nothing on it except the letters '' J. C." Even this much 
was contrary to his will, for he directed that no stone should 
mark the place of his interment. The cemetery is beauti- 
ful, and it is somewhat refreshing to see Protestant taste 
expressed even in a burial-ground, after the numerous 
crosses and fanciful mournfulness of Pere la Chaise. In a 
beautiful island at the place where the Khone issues out of 
the lake, are several statues : one, that of Jean Jaques Eous- 
seau, long a resident here. This is a delightful place; 
there are pleasant nights ; there are large crowds of prome- 
naders under the trees ; there is a band of music ; some sail 
on the blue lake, others indulge in the delicacies of the 
palate ; the fresh wind from the lake fans the cheek, and the 
sky seems sepulchred in the beautiful lake below. 

CHAMOUNI. 

But we are now at Chamouni. The cold, bald, hoar brow 
of Mont Blanc rises far above us, into the high air — the 
most awfully grand sight I have ever beheld. There are 
three principal summits, the highest being fifteen thousand 
eight hundred feet. In all directions around shoot up vast 
granite peaks, like needles, utterly inaccessible, many of 
them twelve thousand feet high. These are separated by 
frightful chasms and abysses, the cradles of innumerable 
glaciers, some of which extend down into the Yalley of 
Chamouni. The line of perpetual snow begins about half 
way up the mountain, and all the upper parts are shrouded 
in a snowy mantle, old as the creation, and bound together 
by glaciers, desolate and dreadful, with seamy ridges and 
caverns within them, from which burst splendid cataracts, 
leaping gladly forth as if rejoiced to be freed from frigidity. 
For about half way up, the mountain is bristled with dark 



CHAMOUNI. 69 

pines. Vegetation there ceases, and the realms of eternal 
snow commence. The sunset rays glamoring and revelling 
like gladsome fairies on the ever-freezing summit of Mont 
Blanc, long after darkness has wrapped the entire valley 
below, are beautiful as a dream of the ^' golden city." We 
left Geneva at an early hour this morning, August 21st^ 
and came the whole distance, fifty-one miles, to Chamouni, 
in a Diligence containing thirty persons. The country 
through which we passed, near Geneva, is well cultivated, 
and abounds in lovely villas — then through the green val- 
ley of the Arve — one of the streams born from the glaciers 
of Chamouni. Mountains of appalling height, as if trying 
to see how high they could get, rose on each side ; and 
feudal ruins of stone castles, in wretched decay, looked out 
from scenes of natural beauty and lone sublimity. Pasture 
lands, old, finished and decayed villages; beggars; horn- 
blowers, cannon-firers, to awaken the mountain echoes and 
sell them to us — all demanded our centimes; and the beau- 
ties of nature seemed set in contrast with the debasement 
of man. The splendid cataract of Le Mont d'Arssenoy, 
eight hundred feet high, shivering down rocks, then leaping 
madly, then covering itself coquettishly with rainbows — fur- 
nishes an introduction to the greater glories of Switzerland. 
On the route we left the territory of Switzerland and 
entered Sardinia, where our passports were examined, which 
being found en regie — we having taken the precaution, at 
Geneva, to get a Sardinian visa — we were permitted to pro- 
ceed. Passing a bridge over the Arve we had a sudden 
view of Mont Blanc, in appalling whiteness and distinct- 
ness, though twelve miles off in a straight line — the great 
monster mountain of Europe, arrayed in all his dazzling 
snows. After dining at St, Martin's, we proceeded on our 
way — passing various green and grassy-looking villages — 
our course lying along the Arve, which tumbled and 
dashed over enormous rocks — the water being of the pecu- 



70 MONT BLANC — LE JARDIN. 

liar white color whicli distinguishes glacier- water. At some 
places we were compelled, ow4ng to the steepness of the 
ascent, to dismount and ascend on foot — a grand chaos of 
lovely and sublime views arresting attention at every step. 
We then descended into the long, narrow Yale of Chamouni. 
All nature seems to take on a savage, Alpine air. Two 
enormous glaciers come down in chasms from Mont Blanc. 
Cascades and cataracts of rocks appear around you, and 
devastations apparently caused by ancient volcanoes. A 
ruin of an ancient chateau is seen on an isolated granite 
peak. Entering the vale, however, all is peaceful, and 
serene, and Swiss-like. There is a small valley here, in 
which we found excellent hotels. There are numerous 
shops here, in which are sold the carved wood-work of 
the Swiss ; crystals and specimens of the stones found on 
Mont Blanc ; also the Alpine stick — a long, light pole, 
pointed at one end with iron — used in making excursions 
on the ice. Travelers are here discussing their plans, 
routes for the day, dangers; guides are making bargains; 
and the great sublimity of nature is over and around all. 
Once more, then, before retiring, I turn to the great white 
thing above me, almost ascending to heaven. Five or six 
" wild torrents fiercely glad" leap out of its sides, and run 
down in streams or cataracts to the valley, while forests of 
pines ascend, like a dark night-shadow, till forbidden by 
the empire of snow. The stars and moon look down on 
the scenes from above, and peaceful vales, fields, and meads, 
and streams, are at the foot of the "monarch of mountains" — 
his crown and his kingdom, himself cold, alone, dreary, and 
solemn. 

MONT BLANC AND LE JAEDIN. 

To-day, August 22d, we have performed a rather unusual 
and hazardous excursion — one among the many that may 
be made from Chamouni. Having made our arrangements 



MONT BLANC — LE JARDIN. 71 

with a guide, and each armed with an Alpine stock, we set 
forward on foot at an early hour. There are about forty 
guides at Chamouni. They have regular prices for certain 
places, and all form a community under a leader elected 
by themselves and subject to an established organization. 
They are generally very honest. All speak French, some 
a little English, and in capacity and manners, owing to 
their contact with travelers, are superior to the ordinary 
classes of the population. Thus traveling is a means not 
only of enlarging and improving the mind of the traveler, 
but becomes also a means of liberalizing those with whom 
he comes in contact. Leaving Chamouni, we begin to as- 
cend the mountain by a course winding in zigzags up the 
steep ascent — passing through a dense forest of pines — 
encountering on our way many travelers ascending to its 
Hermitage — ladies on mules — all with Alpine stocks — the 
scene presented on looking back over the green Yale of 
Chamouni, seen far below us, being interesting in the 
highest degree. At various parts of the ascent — generally 
at some spring or fertile place — we met groups of peasant 
girls, offering us, for a consideration, flowers, strawberries 
with milk, and other refreshments. At length we reached 
Montauvert, more than six thousand feet above the sea- 
level. There is a small hotel or chalet here for refresh- 
ment ; and at this point the vast glacier called the '^ Sea of 
Ice," burst upon our view. Nothing can exceed the gran- 
deur of the scene. It descends from the cold, awful heights 
of Mont Blanc — is many miles long, some five or six 
broad — is surrounded on all sides, except on that toward 
Chamouni, with rugged and lofty granite needles or ele- 
vated mountain points. Its appearance is like an angry sea 
in commotion — ridges of ice, chasms, caverns, crevices. 
Directing our guide to procure wine and cold meat as a 
repast on the way, we now descended upon the Sea of Ice 
by three dangerous bridges, formed by steps cut into the 



72 MONT BLANC — LE JAEDIN. 

rocks forming one of the needles. After some hours of 
great labor, scrambling over the huge blocks of ice, and 
following the difficult route, never to be taken except with 
an expereinced guide, we found ourselves safely across. 
The depth of the solid mass of ice is stated to be six hun- 
dred feet. It is about six thousand feet above the level of 
the sea. In summer, when the weather is fine, which was 
the case to-day, there are innumerable streams running over 
the surface. These converge into a river, which leaps into 
a tremendous chasm in the middle of the Sea of Ice, and 
goes down to the bottom, six hundred feet, passing under 
it, and breaking out with great noise — a vast, white cata- 
ract, into the Yallev of Chamouni — forms the river Arve. 
Niagara, with all its vast volume of waters, is not so sub- 
lime as this cataract with its surroundings. Having crossed 
the icy sea, our course lay upon an enormous rock, several 
hundred feet high, which we ascended partly on our hands 
and feet, crawling upward by means of notches in the rock. 
We now entered a much wilder looking region. There 
were large masses of granite, the debris from the needles 
above — fairy cascades dangling from the high glaciers 
above. We had at length penetrated into the savage heart 
of Mont Blanc. Eesting by the side of one of the clear, 
ice-cold streams, we devoured our repast with an appetite 
inspired by our exercise and the elevated air. After this, 
crossing other glaciers and snows, and making other as- 
cents, we attained the object of our excursion — the '' Jardin," 
or Garden, more than nine thousand feet high. This is a 
large rock, covered with a thin sod of verdure, even at this 
great height, on which are also blooming at this time of the 
year rich and splendid-looking Alpine flowers, with a deli- 
cate blue tint, and a wild, untrammelled beauty, as if never 
gazed at by human eyes, but only made to be the admira- 
tion of fairy angels. The vegetation here arises from the 
warmth produced by the rays reflected from the various 



MOKT BLANC — LE JAEDIN. 73 

needle- pointed mountains around liere converging to one 
point. It is a warm region in the frosty and windy heart 
of Mont Blanc, like one bright and tender remembrance in 
a life otherwise all winter — one dear, loved memory in 
youth, to which age can go back and cull fair flowers of 
feeling and forget the dreariness of life around. The day 
had been unusually favorable for our excursion, and we 
were now in possession of a clear^ unclouded view of the 
extreme summit of Mont Blanc, rising six thousand feet 
above us. There was a thin, gauze-like drapery of cloud 
floating just below the summit. On our right rose, piercing 
into the sky, the Aiguille (or needle) de Talafre, with its 
snows, glaciers, and cascades. A barricade of other peaked, 
granite mountains, most of them twelve thousand feet high, 
and many of them never explored, appeared all around. It 
was a scene for heart-silence amidst this sublimity of Nature ; 
for there is in nature a development of all feelings of which 
the mind or heart of man is susceptible. Here the dreary, 
the lone, the remote and savage, the sublime, find vent. 
But even here is the beautiful too ; and these strange, 
staring, blue Alpine flowers, seem to show that no situation 
is without its alleviations, and that way-side flowers spring 
up even under the pressure of the most forlorn situations. 
Under a rock here we found a bottle, in which those who, 
like us, have attained this elevation, leave their names, 
residence, date of ascending, written on a piece of paper. 
We did the same; then with a last look at Mont Blanc, 
and at the sublime scene around, and having taken some 
of the blue Alpine flowers as mementos, we prepared to 
descend, being obliged to cross the Sea of Ice before dark, 
in order to escape its vast fissures. We returned on the 
same route by which we came. I can never forget the 
views we had on our return — of the red sunset rays slowly 
climbing the grand granite needles, patched over with snow, 
gleaming with glaciers ; the huge cataracts bursting out of 

G 



74 MONT BLANC — LE JARDIN. 

their sides — uttering "the voice of many waters" — then 
the lone appearance of the many-ridged and tempest-tossed 
Sea of Ice, with its clear waters, freezing as we passed in 
the twilight ; then the deep darkness of the Yale of Oha- 
mouni, while yet the rays lingered long on the summit of 
Mont Blanc. The obelisks of naked mountains, which 
appear to touch the sky — the agitated Sea of Ice be- 
neath, which the suns of thousands of summers have been 
unable to melt — all assume a wondrous solem^nity in the 
evening hour, as if they were the cathedral of Nature, who 
was then breathing orisons to her Maker. We reached 
Chamouni late at night, having performed a walk of thirty- 
six miles. 

The ascent of Mont Blanc to its summit, sixteen thousand 
feet high, is made almost every season by some anxious-to- 
distinguish-himself person. It requires at least three days, 
and six guides to each person : the guides at twenty dollars 
each. The first night the party sleep at the Grrand Mulcts, 
to which the guides carry provisions, wine, &c. — a cabin 
visible from Chamouni, erected for this purpose. The 
second day the ascent to the top of Mont Blanc is made, 
and the party return to the Grand Mulcts ; there sleep, and 
return the ensuing day to Chamouni. Yast and terrible 
glaciers have to be passed in making the ascent, and preci- 
pices of ice, extending down five hundred feet, crossed. 
From the top the view is, of course, grand beyond descrip- 
tion. Lakes Geneva and JSTeufchatel can be seen, as also 
Italy. It is the highest point in Europe; but it lacks near 
ten thousand feet of being as high as some of the Asiatic 
mountains. Ladies have made the ascent to the top of 
Mont Blanc. Many of those who have made the ascent 
have become deranged in mind. The piercing winds, extreme 
cold, the thin air, so much change the appearance of those 
who make the ascent that they are scarcely recognizable on 
their return. The return of a party who have successfully 



MONT BLANC — LE JAEDIN. 75 

and fairly acbieved the ascent is acclaimed at Chamouni by 
the firing of cannon. Our guide's name was Balmat. He 
is a nephew of the celebrated Joseph Balmat, who was the 
first of all mankind to stand on the then untrodden summit 
of the mountain. He made the ascent some seventy years 
ago, and afterward perished on the mountain, a martyr to 
his love of adventurous explorations. 

The great glaciers, with their cataracts; the numerous 
lofty, jagged, perpendicular points of granite, called needles, 
which surround them ; the great three-headed white thing 
that rises far above all, clad in dazzling snows, the top of 
Mont Blanc; the little village of Chamouni, lying along the 
rushing Arve; the chequered board- like patches of mead- 
ows in the vale ; the " silent sea of pines" around the base 
of Mont Blanc — all constitute an unparalleled scene of 
interest. The glaciers occupy enormous ravines, descend- 
ing from the summit of the mountain almost down into the 
vale. It is said they have a slight motion, almost imper- 
ceptible, but yet obvious in the course of years — the ten- 
dency of the glaciers being to slide down the mountain. 
Or the lower ends, being in a warmer climate, melt, and 
mere gravity causes a descent — the upper portions being 
still accumulating. In the course of some hundreds of 
years an entire glacier may have disappeared. The sides 
of the glaciers, where they rub against their lofty granite 
boundaries, are covered with stones and accretions from the 
"needles" above. The ice is in many places beautifully 
colored; in others, it presents an old, weary, gray, and deso- 
late appearance. There are vast caverns in it — long and 
fathomless furrows. The safe paths across are known to 
the guides only ; and occasionally a singular groaning, like 
an electrical convulsion, seems to rush over the glaciers, 
as if the monster groaned in his frigid, dreary, lifeless 
desolation. 



76 SWITZERLAND. 



SWITZERLAND. 



Some days laave elapsed. We are now at Martigny, an 
ancient little Swiss village at the foot of several ranges of 
mountains. It is on the Drance, a small stream. The 
inhabitants are afflicted, perhaps beyond any other place in 
the world, with that dreadful deformity, the goitre. It is so 
common that the lack of it is considered almost unnatural ; 
and those who have it not are called ''goose-necked." 
There are many theories to account for it. Some attribute 
it to the water ; some to every cause in the whole category 
of causes. It is probable it is due to that degeneracy that 
must come on all human beings who live for centuries 
under the same influences, and surrounded by the same 
scenes and circumstances. Man is migratory; he should 
vary his circumstances ; create new influences ; sometimes 
go to war; any thing to create a change — to bring into 
operation other parts of his system — to bring about a new 
activity — or he will degenerate, and sink, and suffer. 
These Swiss here are wonderfully attached to their coun- 
try — continue in the same employments — never emigrate : 
and probably the goitre is the result. Yet Martigny is a 
» beautiful place ; and appears especially so after escaping 
from the snows and glaciers of Chamouni. It is in the val- 
ley of the Rhoue; and a green, level, and well-cultivated 
region extends along the river, bounded by high moun- 
tains. On a hill near the town is a very peculiar looking 
and strong Roman ruin or relic of the middle ages — a castle 
or tower of stone, majestic in its age, and frowning down 
on the transitory present, as if in consciousness of its 
strength, and its past and its mute unknown history. I 
walked around on its fallen walls, and climbed to the top 
of the tower, from whence extends a grand view, embracing 
the village, the bare mountains around, and the rich plain. 
The scene is singular and old. 



SWITZEELAND. 77 

The last day of my stay in the sweet and lovely Yale of 
Chamouni I made the ascent of the mountain La Flegiere, 
on the side opposite Le Mont Blanc, with a friend and a 
guide, passing some distance by a road through meadows. 
"We began the stern ascent by a path practicable for mules, 
wending through dark groves of pines, and accomplished 
the ascent to the cross on the summit in about three hours. 
At various places were restaurants, where were offered 
wines and other liquors to refresh the weary climbers. 
From the summit a view of extraordinary magnificence 
appears. The three peaks of Mont Blanc are most clearly 
seen in all their snowy majesty. Six great glaciers, with 
their utterances of cataracts ; the pine forests around the 
mountain's base ; the Arve and Arveiron " raving cease- 
lessly" ; and in the dizzy distance below the variegated 
fields of Chamouni with Swiss chalets — all form a scene of 
wondrous attraction. The height of La Flegiere is over 
six thousand feet. The view from the " cross" is indeed a 
luxury of vision. The glaciers have an old world, weary, 
and heartless aspect, as if never refreshed by warm human 
sympathies ; never formed by gentle words ; never the 
parents of smiling and lovely flowers: as if their's alone 
was to be a fate of coldness, gloom, and exemption from all 
the dear delights of earth — apart in their high and freez- 
ing grandeur, wrapped up in the barrenness of inorganic 
atomry. After a pleasant dinner at the chalet on the sum- 
mit we descended. The travelers' books, in which thev 
register their names and make sundry remarks, kept at all 
these hotels, are quite a curiosity, and serve very well as 
indications of national and individual characteristics. We 
saw the names of many of our countrymen, many princes 
of Europe. We returned to Chamouni late in the evening, 
and the next day we departed on our course to this place, 
by the pass of the " Tete K'oir," a route replete with sub- 
lime scenes. The first six miles were through the Vale of 

g2 



78 CASTLE OF CHILLON— VEVAY. 

Chamouni ; then over a height affording us last views of 
hoary Mont Blanc, and his family of glaciers; then we 
descended into passes between mountains of great elevation, 
whose sides were dotted with miniature fields of grain, sup- 
ported by terraces, each contiguous to a little, comfortable- 
looking cottage, surrounded by fruit-trees and small patches 
of green pasture, while at the base of the mountain roared 
a torrent, fed by numerous streams and cascades, whitening 
and foaming down the sides of the mountains from the 
gleaming glaciers above. Little Catholic villages, with 
their ever-open churches, and their musical bells, resound- 
ing in the lone, unworldly -looking valleys ; crosses and 
shrines on the road-sides, with their weeping Madonnas or 
their suffering Christs; beggars who spake not, but extended 
a shattered limb — all these were on our pathway, with their 
different messages of beauty or of sorrow. We passed 
through the Valley Yalorsine, and the singular tunnel 
near the Tete Noir, which is asserted to have been con- 
structed by Napoleon, to facilitate intercourse between dif- 
ferent parts of his empire. This part of the route has the 
appearance of danger, and causes the traveler to linger and 
drink in the wild creations of beauty and desolation. A 
long ascent then brought us to the top of the Forclaz, from 
whence, in the direction of Marti gny, lay extended a view 
of remarkable beauty — fields, meadows, fruit-trees ; and in 
our rear rose the cold and old Mont Blanc, mingling with 
the clouds, and radiant in sunset. Then descending by 
many zigzags, and passing through lowlands, we found our- 
selves in this goitred and unhappy-looking village. 

CASTLE OF CHILLON — VEVAY. 

But I am now at Villeneuve, Hotel Byron, at the head 
of Lake Geneva, or Leman. The lake spreads before me with 
its wondrous blueness, as if rivaling the sky. On the left 
are the " Alps, where eternity is throned in icy halls of cold 



CASTLE OF CHILLON— VEVAY. 79 

sublimity." And liere is Byron's little isle, near the shore, 
with its three tall trees; and just on the right, founded on a 
rock jutting into the lake, is the Castle of Chillon, gray and 
Gothic. While around this hotel, to which Lord Byron's 
name is given — as his genius has rendered these scenes 
classic — are beautiful parterres, promenades, terraces, flower- 
beds, the whole gently sloping to the musical, wave-dash- 
ing lake. With a guide, to-day I have been through the 
castle. It is now used as a magazine for cannon and gun- 
pow^der. We were shown large oaken halls, with curious 
old furniture, pictures, the Duke of Savoy's apartment, then 
that of the Duchess, commanding a most enchanting view 
over the lake; also the Chapel, the Hall of Justice, and 
other places — the castle being large, and said to be eight 
hundred years old. But so much splendor in the past has 
its counterpart, and he took us into the dungeoDS below. 
We saw the prison, rendered celebrated by one of the most 
beautiful and affecting of Lord Byron's shorter poems, the 

" Seyen pillars of Gothic mould, 
In Cliillon's dungeons deep and old." 

The rings to fasten the prisoners to were still there ; and a 
path is worn in the hard, stone pavement by their feet, as 
they, bear-like, trod round and round, as far as their chains 
permitted. The names of many persons. Lord Byron's 
among others, are on the columns. At the extreme end is 
a horrid, dark, ghostly place, an ouhliette, or chamber of for- 
getfulness, a sort of well, lined all around with sharp spikes, 
into which they were thrown, or let down with a windlass, 
to perish in forgetfulness, while mirth, music, and power 
feasted above. The guide also showed us a kind of wall or 
platform, on which many Jews, one at a time, were burnt 
to death ; then another oubliette, and we had " c^07?e" it. The 
green ivy grows around the white walls on the outside. 
The castle itself, though more modern and much less in 



80 VEVAY. 

decay than many others, seems to enshroud some destiny 
of darkness. There is such a thing as an evil physiognomy 
impressed even on a mere building. The life that has been 
lived in a house often writes itself on the walls, and looks 
out upon us in a gay, lively, or gloomy expression. The 
place partakes of its past. And an unquiet memory haunts 
the place where evil actions have been perpetrated. People 
say, '' I do not like such a place : I do not know why." Tt 
is because there is a mute appealing there that would be 
heard — an unvoiced spirit lingers about the place. Other 
places, on the contrary, impress us with an involuntary feel- 
ing of gladness. 

We left Martigny yesterday, by Diligence, and arrived 
at this place, passing through scenery essentially Swiss, and 
all lovely as a poetic creation. There was the cataract 
Pissevache, three hundred or more feet high, made by the 
river Salenche ; there were rugged mountains glaciered over 
with solid seas of snow, soft and pleasant vales between ; 
narrow-streeted and ancient-looking villages ; churches and 
chapels cut out of solid rock ; cathedrals with relics and 
memoirs of Charlemagne ; bridges built by C^sar ; and, in 
short, as much beauty as could be stowed into twenty -eight 
miles. We saw the place where the swift Ehone clears its 
way between heights which appear " as lovers who have 
parted" ; and the opening of the scene toward Lake Geneva, 
the green, peaceful hills, in contrast to Alpine glaciers ; old 
cities, gray and tile-roofed, sitting by the blue waters : all 
were beautiful. No wonder the Swiss are patriotic and 
love their country. It would be easy to form deathless and 
romantic attachments to a country that is all a delight. 
Yet there is a breadth, an expansion of mind, a largeness 
of thought felt in America, to which this country is a 
stranger. America is the land for the accomplishing of 
great deeds ; this for poetry, romance, superstition, relics, 
and the contracting, the back-looking ties of the heart. It 



VEVAY. 81 

must be admitted, too, that in passing through Switzerland, 
the Cantons in which Protestantism prevails, appear to better 
advantage and have fewer beggars, and less general abject- 
ness than those of the Catholics. 

But once more at Geneva, this strongly -fortified city, ^' by 
the blue rushing of the arrowy Ehone." Leaving Yille- 
neuve yesterday, I had a pleasant excursion along the 
banks of the lake, passing Montreux, with its very pictur- 
esque situation on a rugged Alpine projection ; its ivy -grown 
old church, from the terrace of which a view of rare loveli- 
ness, embracing the lake and the Alps, extends; its foun- 
tains, w^ater-falls, etc.; then Clarens and Yevay, which are 
small cities on the lake shore, occupying situations of ro- 
mantic beauty. Vine -plantations and terraces are in the 
rear, from which are seen the snowy Alps beyond the lake's 
blue waters. Here the air is pleasant and genial ; the situ- 
ation most healthful, and the sun is rarely clouded. It 
is impossible to exaggerate the beauty of these shores 
which have given inspiration to, and received fame from, 
such talents as were possessed by Byron and Rousseau. 
From the terrace near the old Cathedral of Bevayis a pros- 
pect of wondrous beauty. I stood there and gazed long, 
till the eye and heart both were loth to leave the scene. 
Protestantism has taken Switzerland in spots. This is a 
Protestant city, and the grand old cathedral listens to Pro- 
testant sermons instead of Catholic masses. In it is buried 
one of the three judges who condemned King Charles I. 
of England. The old grave-yard just back of the church is 
interesting; the sleepers sleeping in the midst of glorious 
scenery ; the ivy, the vine, the Alps, and the lovely lake all 
near. Vevay is a much frequented resort for travelers, on 
account of the super-excellence of the " Hotel Monnet,'" with 
its beautiful bowered garden on the lake. The shores of 
this lake, (here only two or three miles wide,) are remark- 
able on account of the number of celebrated characters who 
6 



82 BEKNE. 

have soiiglat repose from the griefs of heart and head, in 
the lovely scenery. Voltaire's school, where he lectured, 
and in which he used that singular, pregnant expression, 
''If there be no God, one ought to be invented"; the old 
church, on which is the inscription, ''Erected to jjrod by 
Yoltaire" ; the residence of Madame de Stahl ; Lord Byron's 
residence (Diodati), in which he composed the principal part 
of the third canto of Ghilde Harold — all are on these coasts. 
It is singular how small a portion of our emotions are utter- 
able. A single glance around, an old ruin, a word, a tone, 
a ripple, a sunbeam, each may have a powerful spell to 
evoke in the heart what no language can give birth to. 
This is the unwritten and only occasionally and transiently 
felt poetry of an old world, amidst sublime scenery, such as 
that at present around me. 

BERNE. 

August 27th. We have of late reached this pleasant 
city, the capital of the Swiss Confederation. It is on the 
river Aar, whose singularly blue waters wind entirely 
around it. Here the German language predominates, but 
at the hotels French is spoken, and a little English. The city 
has about twenty-five thousand inhabitants. The principal 
streets are wide, houses supported on arcades, on the plan 
of the Rue de Rivoli in Paris ; but here the arcades are lower, 
the columns not so light and elegant, nor so high, but stout, 
solid, and Dutch-like. The city being on the slope of ground 
declining toward the Aar, admits of pleasant rivulets of 
water, running in small canals, through the middle of the 
streets. The Cathedral here is one of the splendid Gothic 
works of the middle ages, with a profusion of sculptured 
statues, arches, groinings, architraves, stained windows, 
grand organ, — a slice of heaven to hear the latter, — tombs, 
etc., all of which have been converted to Protestantism. JSTot 
far from the Cathedral is a terrace, at a great height above 



BERNE. 83 

the Aar. It has monuments to various old Bernese heroes, 
who killed huge, monster bears on this place, and thus 
founded the city, and called it Berne, which means the 
^'bear city." There are elegant promenades here, and it is 
adorned with trees. But trees, bears, music, heroes, sculp- 
ture, must all succumb to the real, sublime magnificence of 
Nature. There is a view of the Alps, the Bernese Ober- 
land, from the terrace, which is really overpowering. To 
the southeast, you may see a huge wilderness of silent and 
sublime, snowed and glaciered mountains, lost in clouds and 
laved in sunlight. They are probably one hundred miles 
off. In their white m.antles, they look like ghosts of gone, 
great worlds, and the impression they make on the heart is 
one of its eternities. The promenades, avenues, heights, 
around Berne, are lovely, and its inhabitants are clever, in- 
dustrious, unpretending and moral. The city is all built 
of stone ; and under the arcades are the principal shops and 
hotels, along which is a pleasant, covered promenade. The 
great town-clock striking ''twelve," makes a tremendous 
ado about it ; figures of angels, bears, trumpeters — Death 
himself — come out, stalk around, blow horns, and do vari- 
ous other things, to the edification of the gazers. The 
clock is in an immense, old, prison-looking tower, the street 
passing through an arch under it. 

Leaving Vevay a few days ago, I returned in a beautiful 
little steamer on Lake Geneva to Geneva. The trip down 
the lake's blue waters, along these old, walled and pictur- 
esquely situated villages; the mouldering castles peering 
through groves and vine-plantations; the dark-chasmed 
Jura mountains on one side, the Alps on the other ; then 
the white city of Geneva, at the extreme end of the lake, 
rising into view as you approach, all form a panorama of 
beauty at which the eye scarcely even tires of gazing. Ar- 
rived in Geneva we spent some days in that city of good 
hotels and ecclesiastical recollections. Among the rather 



84 BEENE. 

few objects of interest it offers to the travelers, (it compeD- 
sates, however, in its environs,) is the junction of the Ehone 
and the Arve^ a mile from the city. The Khone, with its 
extraordinary and inexplainable blueness, rushes along 
with great rapidity, meets but does not mingle with the 
Arve, which, being born from the glaciers of Chamouni, 
partakes of the usual extreme whiteness of glacier-water, a 
kind of compromise color is the result; but neither stream 
is as beautiful as before ; and, as in the case of most com- 
promises, both appear to be sullenly dissatisfied — the Khone 
reofrettins: its blueness, and the Arve its whiteness — which 
they enjoyed up in the serpentine, delicious vales, of their 
youth before marriage. 

Eesuming our route from Geneva, we again sailed up the 
lake as far as Ouchy, the port of the beautiful city of Lau- 
sanne. On our way up^ gazing to the right, I was favored 
with the rare privilege of seeing Mont Blanc, the monster 
mountain, in all his snowy sublimity, near sixty miles off. 
All the other mountains, which, when one is near him, 
seem almost as high as he, were utterly invisible. The red 
clouds were hanging around him like folds of tapestry, and 
his dazzling snowy head looked over earth, and seemed to 
lean on heaven. Arrived at Ouchy, on the lake (at this 
place Lord Byron wrote, in two days, the ''Prisoner of 
Chillon,") we took passage thence in an omnibus, which 
bore us, by a long way leading up a hill, by a road enclosed 
by high walls bounding grape plantations, to the very 
beautiful, but rather Italian-looking city of Lausanne, 
where, at the large but indifferently-kept Hotel Gibbon — so- 
called because it is on the site of Gibbon's house and 
garden, in which he wrote the " Decline and Fall of the 
Roman Empire," — we rested a day. 



LAUSANNE. 85 



LAUSANNE. 



Lausanne has about fifteen thousand inhabitants, and is 
probably the most pleasant of all the cities of Switzerland, 
for sojourning in. The old Cathedral with its nine hundred 
years of age, its four hundred and seventy-two columns, its 
tombs, (one of them to Lady Canning, by Oanova,) its 
fine situation, the museum, which is really extensive in 
the geological, mineralogical, and zoological departments, 
containing some interesting relics of the first Napoleon, 
his maps, and some observations in his own handwriting; 
the singular-looking old streets, with their numerous stone 
stair-cases, — the city being built on three hills and their 
intervening deep valleys, — the stone fountains, with the 
bright, clear, sparkling, ice-cold water leaping out; the 
somewhat singular costumes of the peasantry ; their settled, 
satisfied, unambitious appearance, so different from our in- 
cessant American onwardness ; all these, together with a 
cloudless sky above, a blue, heavenly-looking lake below, 
and eternally snow-mantled and glaciered mountains across, 
give the traveler, in his sojourn here, a constant feast 
addressed to his intellect or his eye. From Lausanne we 
departed, by a Swiss railway, through a beautifal vine and 
grass country, to Yverdon on Lake Neufchatel. Up this 
lake, some twenty-seven miles long, five or six wide, with 
its banks vine-clad, and pretty and neat-looking villages 
sitting on the slopes, with ruins, castles, churches, we sailed 
in a steamer to Neufchatel. The waters of the lake are as 
blue as those of Lake Leman ; the scenery is not so bold, 
but prettier and softer. Neufchatel contains about seven thou- 
sand inhabitants, who, as in many of the other Swiss cities, 
are engaged in manufacturing watches, teeth, ornaments in 
gold and silver, carved wooden-work, etc. Beautiful as 
are the situations of many of these towns, on their hills and 
witb their ivy -clad churches and ruins, the traveler who 

H 



m BEENE. 

examines them in detail must not expect the gratification 
of all the senses ; the sense of smell is frequently violently 
offended ; and while the eye or the mind may be in rapture 
over a ravishing scene, it protests that Europe does not 
smell well. 

Leaving Neufchatel. which belongs to Prussia, in a Dili- 
gence^ we eame some twenty-eight miles to 

BERNE, 

passing over, perhaps, the finest part of Switzerland, agri- 
culturally considered ; wdth fine views of lakes (in one of 
which is an island, in which Eousseau spent many days of 
exile) ; and we also saw the sunset rays disporting themselves 
on the summits of far-off glaciers, where they linger longest 
in prismatic loveliness, as if to console them for the moving 
trees, the green, living grass, which their cold bosoms must 
bear never. How beautiful those far-off snowy mountains 
in this old land, their surfaces covered with glaciers at all 
degrees of inclination, and clad in colors of unpictured love- 
liness ! It is Europe — the old, historical, and lovely — and 
not America — great, progressive, young and ardent, but 
without the dying, dreaming beauty of a historical, cele- 
brated past. Town-lots, and new cities and railroads, and 
steamboats and reaping-machines and sewing-machines, are 
our mercenary, mechanical pursuits ; and the great, old, 
quiet contemplations of nature, by which genius and art 
are born, are sacrificed to the modern gods of physical com- 
fort and utility. We are an unquiet, restless, agonized 
people, repeating wdth less art and genius experiments 
of human nature, the falseness and vanity of which are seen 
in old Europe. But we intend to do it, and resolve to 
repeat them often — often. These people have a kind of ex- 
perimental, practical knowledge of man and of men, due to 
the constant attrition of an overcrowded continent, that we 
in our sparsedly settled country have not. Ve read, but 



FKEIBUKG. 87 

they learn and see. Thinking is scarcely so common in 
Europe as with us; but there is more perception, and more 
knowledge with less theory. 

FREIBURG. 

But we are- off in the Diligence to Freiburg, this glorious 
Saturday evening. We pass out of the gates of Berne, 
guarded by two enormous bears in stone, which look at us 
fiercely funny. During this day we have visited the Baren- 
graben. The good Bernese not contenting themselves with 
plaster and bronze bears, have constructed a large, walled 
courtyard, in w^hich are several live specimens of their 
favorite animal. They seem to lead an easy, careless 
existence, and look like impersonations of fat — easy, well- 
to-do bearhood — happy in the happiness they give to the 
Bernese. You throw to them apples, and you take a slice 
of enjoyment yourself, in watching their movements. Of 
course there would be a fine opening for you to say that the 
lions of Berne are all hears: but don't you do it. AVe also 
visited the interior of the Cathedral, and were led about by 
an old lady, the curiosity-keeper of the place. It is truly a 
splendid Gothic edifice ; its organ is one of the finest in the 
world ; and in the church are several remains of the old 
Catholic times ; tombs, monuments, etc., with inscriptions 
in Latin, French, German ; and there are busts of the apos- 
tles and prophets ; and relics of the grand times, far more 
interesting than the present, when all things in these 
churches were in keeping with the ascendancy of a gorge- 
ous superstition. But though the Canton of Berne is Pro- 
testantized, on our way to Freiburg we see the large, wooden 
crosses erected on the roadside, to revive and encourage 
Catholic feelings in the bosom of the traveler, and are con- 
vinced that Catholicism is yet in the world, and that we are 
now entering one of the Catholic Cantons again. The in- 
habitants in these vales seem devoted principally to the 



88 FREIBURG. 

raising of grain, clover, "hay — and, but that the houses are 
not so good, nor the people so intelligent, one might fancy 
himself gazing on one of the fertile valleys among the 
mountains of the Middle States. But here is that hideous 
goitre again, an immense protuberance or swelling in the 
neck; and here are poor, miserable people collecting the 
manure falling on the road, in baskets, and selling it : thus 
demonstrating that there are many ways of making a living 
in this world. Poor Europe ! she has her millions of hard 
livers and low livers — filthy wretches, in whom humanity is 
distorted ; and between whom and what might be called 
ordinary comfort, is an immeasurable ascent. But afar off 
rise the snowy Alps, gilt by the resplendent sunset. Their 
multiform peaks look like giants supporting the earth, 
hoary with age, and weary. They have sat there in frozen, 
changeless majesty, for thousands of years, addressing the 
sublime feeling in man, and trophying the greatness of their 
Creator. 

While in Berne, we called on the resident Minister of the 
American Legation, who is more than a mere minister — a 
good author and poet; and more than either minister or 
poet — a Christian and good man. We were much pleased 
with his acquaintance. The representatives of our country 
in Europe, whom we have seen, are very fair and able 
men ; and the doctrine of rotation in office might be far 
more beautifully applied in rotating those persons about 
their business, who are so anxious to dispossess those from 
offices, which require the tact and knowledge which only 
the experience of years can give, than in ousting experi- 
enced possessors. 

But here, underneath this mellow August moon, you 
enter the old, picturesque town of Freiburg. You see first 
the high tower of the Cathedral, two hundred and fifty feet 
high; you pass over an immense suspension-bridge; you 
stop at a hotel bearing the name of one of the renowned 



FEEIBURG. 89 

chiefs of the middle ages (Zaehringen Hof). From your 
window you can see several old towers rising in the midst 
of the half-decayed walls which once surrounded the town. 
The town itself looks obsolete, mysterious, and visionary. 
On ahigh point of a mountain near, stands a solitary square 
feudal watch-tower, with numerous portholes, with the walls 
decayed all around, the tower itself impregnable to time. 
You then cross a wire suspension-bridge thrown over a deep 
gorge: the bridge is six hundred and forty feet long, and 
three hundred and seventeen feet high. Then comes another 
feudal stone tower, around which cling fragments of walls ; 
then there is the longest suspension-bridge in Europe — for 
these people are great on suspension-bridges. It is nine 
hundred and forty-one feet long and one hundred and eighty 
feet high, and extends across the river Savine. This tower 
is a stronghold of Catholicism. The Jesuits are here in 
great power ; and here the suspected were tortured into Ca- 
tholicism. We go to church here, truly indeed " not for the 
doctrines, but the music there," for the organ is said to be 
one of the grandest in the world. Its voice is like the 
mighty utterance of hitherto mute Nature. It is said to be 
the richest toned organ in the world. You see the church 
crowded, and the gorgeous mummery of Catholicism going 
on — for it is much easier to act devotion than to feel it. 
Catholicism here seems to be dramatic devotion. The 
Catholic church is the most splendid and powerful institu- 
tion which has ever existed in the world. The empires of 
Assyria and Kome are not to be compared to it in power, 
magnificence, or influence over the feelings. Its grand, 
stately music; its imposing ceremonies; its sculptures; its 
paintings ; even its candles burning in mid-day ; the myste- 
rious order of unmarried men devoted to it alone ; its saints, 
legends, purgatory ; its Pope ; its crosses — all powerfully 
brand into the heart of humanity. 

The old wall of Freiburg yet surrounds the town, and is 

h2 



99 FEEIBUEG, 

said to be the most nearly perfect of all the fortifications of 
the middle ages. The present city was founded about six 
hundred years ago, by the father of him who founded Berne. 
The present wall appears to have been built on a more 
ancient one ; the gray, time-eaten stones of which underneath, 
present a very ancient appearance. The wall varies in 
height. Where a huge gorge alongside rendered an attack 
almost useless, it is much lower. In other places it is forty 
or fifty feet high, and seven or eight broad. I counted fif- 
teen or twenty towers of various shapes and heights, some 
at least one hundred feet high. They are built of large 
square masses of stone ; have numerous windows ; different 
stories or compartments ; would contain hundreds of soldiers ; 
and seem not only able to withstand the material enemies 
that assaulted them, but also the great enemy of all things, 
terrestrial Time himself, who devours his own offspring. 
Of course these fortifications are utterly useless in modern 
warfare, since the invention of cannons and bombs ; but in 
the ages when battles were fought, the soldiers grappling 
hand to hand or hurling lances, this place must have been 
almost impregnable, the city having been built on a succes- 
sion of precipices. 

Sunday, that calm and blessed institution, whose influence 
on the heart of man is soothing as music, does not exist 
here; is not in Europe — unless in England or Scotland — at 
least as it is seen in America. Humankind require a Sun- 
day, and will deteriorate without it. It is the resting of 
part of our nature and the action of another part; the rest 
of earth and the action of heaven. But these wretched 
people carry a lowness in their countenances. Europe has 
produced greater men than America ; greater individuals ; 
greater cities, churches, intellectual works, but in no 
instance a greeLter people. That is the mission of America. 
There man is magnified. The tyranny of superstition, 
under the name of Keligion, worse than any political 



FKEIBURG. 91 

tyranny, is not on him there — the air is uncursed by this 
damning, contracting, soul-withering thing, that delights 
the eye and fancy, and pleases the ear, but shrivels up the 
soul — called the Church of Kome. Here man lives and 
breathes, but hardly, for centuries of inherited unprogres- 
siveness cling around him. Tradition and custom tyrannize 
over him;, and the what has been precludes anything better 
to be. 

But here is the old Jesuits' convent, immense and mean- 
looking, with its high wall around the courtyard to keep in 
due bounds young inclinations, and to keep out young 
lovers. Adjoining is a high, iron-grated tower, now used 
as a prison. In old times it was the place where the Jesuits 
applied the rack. It is even yet called " Le Mauvaise 
Tour," the bad tower. It has indeed a bad, wicked, heart- 
less look. In both of these, human nature has been 
crushed out, and the Devil rejoiced in his great, strong- 
power, and in his fit agents. The oppressor and the 
oppressed are now alike in the dust of three hundred 
years. 

But the organ. We heard it to-night in all its glory 
of sound. We entered the church and Avalked through its 
piles of columns. It was dark, except far in the choir end 
w^as a dim light. A corpse, by a Catholic custom, lays in 
its coffin in the church all night. One was in the church 
with its black covering, pictured with death-heads and death 
mottos. But the organ began. It was such music as stirs 
the infinite deep within us. It stormed, it raved, it wept, 
it howled, it growled, it prayed, it expostulated, it despaired, 
it died, it was damned ; it entered into sorrow inconceiv- 
able — a mute memory that would not down, clinging in 
wordless melancholy : it rose again ; it suffered ; it reached 
out into far years of the future — awaj^, away, away; a 
heart wailing, it went into dust, lifeless; was lonely as 
eternity ; had no God ; then came upon new worlds ; dis- 



92 FREIBUKG. 

covered the shores of the Hope-land ; attempted the utter- 
ance of the unutterable : it was a poem — a life — an agony. 
It ceased, and yoa were not sad, or glad, or sordid, but 
comforted, for a mighty utterance of mute meaning was 
drawn out of ^^our soul, and you had fathomed your heart 
more deeply, and out of it had come memories that had 
slept like stratified rocks. It was one of the gigantic, 
mysterious compositions of the unfathomable-souled Carl 
Maria Von Weber. The effect of all was heightened by 
the darkness, and the fitful shadows flitting like spectres 
along old and gray columns. The organist is said to have 
no superior. The concert was gotten up by the travelers 
a.t the hotel. 

But the four old, gray towers rise up in the moonlight, 
each on its separate hill. The walls and warlike builders 
sleep in the dust together. On them these towers have 
looked down for ages. But they too will moulder — the 
ruin to the ruin. Above both, however, looks down an 
everlasting star, like the great purpose of each life, which. 
God alone knows, and which he can keep working on from 
generation to generation. Below, in the narrow gorge, 
sings out the voice of the cataract to the hoar ruin above, 
itself fresh and joyous and unweakened and unworn by 
age. 

In the principal square in Freiburg, there is shown a 
linden or lime tree, three and a half centuries old. Its 
heavy branches are propped up by stone walls. It is 
viewed with great veneration, as it was a twig in the hands 
of a brave Swiss soldier, who, returning from the battle 
of Morat, near this, in which his countrymen were victori- 
ous, was only able to say, " Kejoice, the victory is ours 1" 
when he fell and expired. The twig was planted on the 
spot, and has overshadowed it for more than three hun- 
dred years. 



[NTERLAKEN". 93 



INTERLAKEN. 



We are now at Interlaken, near and under tlie Alps, 
three of whose snow heads, dreadful and strange, look out 
from underneath their cap of clouds. This is a pretty place, 
many good hotels and boarding-houses in it. It is situated 
in a gorge of the Alps, near Lake Thun, a lovely, blue sheet 
of water, some ten miles long, and two or three broad, a 
child of the Alps, laving the feet of its mighty parent. We 
left Freiburg this morning at five o'clock, in the Diligence, 
returned to Berne, thence by Diligence through a lovely 
and well-cultivated region to Thun, drawing nearer to the 
monster Alps — the fertile vale of the Aar on our right. At 
Thun, situated where the Aar rushes out of the lake, we 
dined and rambled through the narrow, winding streets, 
and explored a very grotesque and picturesque-looking old 
castle built of stoncj on an arm of the mountain. It has 
singular turrets ; the view from the top is impressive : and 
the rooms, hangings, armor, courtyard, prison, winding, 
stone stairways, terraces, chapels, seem to tell of the strong 
old times of chivalrous courtesy, power, pride, and posses- 
sion. At Thun, which is larger than Interlaken, with other 
travelers, got into a little steamer, which bore us on its blue 
waters, the mirrors of the mighty Alps above, to JSTewhaus, 
a small place at the extremity of the lake, v/hence an omni- 
bus brought us three miles further to the town. This name, 
Interlaken, signifies " between the lakes," as it is situated 
between Lakes Thun and Brienne, the latter immediately 
above. It is the most pleasant and agreeable little place we 
have yet seen. The blue Aar, a creation of the glaciers 
above, disports itself in splendid waterfalls, then expands 
into mirrory lakes ; then, as if dissatisfied with an inactive 
life, rushes with great rapidity out of one lake, a let-loose 
Alpine torrent— then rests itself meditatingly, forming Lake 
Thun — as if struck by awe at the hugely machiolated walls 



94 WENGERN ALPS. 

of mighty Alps above it ; then, concluding to be useful, it 
leaves Lake Thun, and fertilizes a great extent of country. 

We are in the midst of the fruit-season here : plums, apri- 
cots, peaches, pears, are quite abundant; strawberries and 
blackberries are offered you everywhere. In passing through 
these fertile Swiss vales, we see the industrious peasantry, 
women as well as men, at laborious work in the fields. 
Some were threshing with the flail, that labor-saving instru- 
ment, the American threshing-machine, being unknown. 
We are about to take, on foot, the excursion through the 
Bernese Oberland Alps, the finest that can be taken among 
the Alps, after that of Chamouni. 

WENGERN ALPS. 

We are now at Grindelwalder, this evening, September 
1st, right among the high Alps. Around us are the Great 
Eigher, thirteen thousand feet high ; Le Monch ; the 
Schrekhorn, or Terrible Peak; the Wetterhorn, or Tem- 
pest Peak, and others, which it is a glory to see, all covered 
with snow which has lain there for a thousand years. 
Their craggy, awful, precipitous summits have light clouds 
dangling around them. The valley in which we are, is 
green and fertile. Small, square wheat-fields, rich and yel- 
low, look out from green pastures, and wooden, Swiss cot- 
tages, of fantastic shapes, cling to the mountain-sides, each 
house with its little specialty of humanity within. The 
sun has set behind Alpine mountains, and in a great gorge, 
high up between two giant mountains, peers the moon. 
We left Interlaken" this morning at eight o'clock, hired a 
guide for several days, at seven francs a day ($1.40). He 
speaks French and German, no English. We came by car- 
riage six miles, to the village of Lauterbrunnen, where the 
ascent commences. We passed some Swiss cottages, looking 
comfortable and neat, with orchard-grounds around. Soon, 
on our right, we saw an ancient ruin almost surrounded and 



WENGERN ALPS. 95 

surmounted by dense vegetation, situated at the foot of a 
mountain ; and in front of it are grand views of the snowy 
Alps. It is the Castle of Ounspunnen, the former resi- 
dence of a noble but now extinct family, but it generally 
goes by the name of Manfred's Castle, from a supposition 
that Lord Byron had it in his eye when mentally arranging 
the scenes of his most sublime poem, '^Manfred." We now 
passed into a narrow valley between lofty mountains, from 
which leaps bright, fairy waterfalls, the grand peak of the 
Jungfrau in sight, snowy and bold. Soon we passed a 
dreary place, of very ill repute ; a rock, on which it is said 
the Lord of Kothenflue murdered his brother, after which 
deed he became a miserable wanderer over the earth, like 
Cain. Lauterbrunnen, or Fountain Yale, is a small Swiss 
village; one or two hotels; guides here pester you to em- 
ploy them or their mules. It is situated in a deep valley, 
into which the sun is late coming, and from which he dis- 
appears at two or three o'clock in the afternoon ; yet it is 
fertile, and though quite a narrow valley, has pleasant pas- 
ture-fields, and some grain-fields. Thirty waterfalls, born 
from the high mountains above, leap out into the valley. 
One of these, the Staubach, or Dust Stream, is cele- 
brated in glowing terms by Lord Byron, Wordsworth, and 
others. It is nine hundred feet high. Two rapid torrents 
leap first in angry foam from the rocks, descend several 
hundred feet, then are apparently lost in rainbows blown 
about by the wind : the cataract is no more, it has died in 
glory. A projecting rock, a hundred feet or more below, 
condenses again the vapor, which now laughs down its 
sides, rejoicing in its new resurrection after its desperate 
leap and death. It is beautiful as an avalanche of inno- 
cent lightning. Its beauty is perfect. We now began by 
a steep, zigzag course, the ascent of the Wengern Alps. 
The scene is highly picturesque; tourists, like ourselves, on 
foot, each with Alpine stock, and with guides carrying bag- 



96 WENGERN ALPS. 

gage, consisting of a knapsack to eacli person; ladies as- 
cending on mules or horses ; some carried up, seated on a 
chaise made for that purpose, supported by two men — all 
these winding around the mountain, the valley below grad- 
ually narrowing, till at length it is hidden, and the higher 
regions come into view. Little girls offer yon pretty, wild 
Alpine flowers, which you can purchase for a few sons; 
beggars beg on various pretenses. At some places your 
toilsome ascent can be enlivened by strawberries and cream, 
offered you by Swiss girls, generally seated near some 
spring fed by cold glaciers ; some blow on the Alpine horn 
as you approach, and are answered from distant rocks, high 
up in the mountains, by the sweetest echoes ever heard ; 
some fire off small cannon, whose echoes growl along miles 
of mountains. Wherever it is possible there are pretty 
little fields of grain, grass, or pasturage — for life must be 
borne, and its support wrenched out of these granite hills 
in some way. But our course is still upward. We wind 
around the mountain, having in one place a most mag- 
nificent view of that wind-tossed cataract, the Staubach. 
We attain an elevation of five thousand feet, and the great 
Jungfrau — the " Young Girl Mountain" — so called on 
account of the purity of its snow, comes fully into view. 
It is a grand sight rising on your right, like a separate 
world of snow — its peaks invading the cloud-lands. It 
seems near, though in reality afar off. It has been very 
rarely ascended, being considered utterly inaccessible till 
within the last few years. Its point is thirteen thousand 
feet high. Other snowy peaks and glaciers rise in congre- 
gated sublimity afar off". The mountain we were ascending, 
on account of its southern exposure, was green and beau- 
tiful, contrasting admirably with the snows and awful deso- 
lation of the Jungfrau. Fierce torrents, rushing out of 
glaciers, make tremendous leaps, which reverberate from 
mountain to vale. Here is where avalanches are most fre- 



WENGERN ALPS. 97 

quently seen. We heard their thundering noise as we as- 
cended, rising from different and invisible parts of the 
mountain, and we saw several on the side next to us, A 
small quantity of snow, in appearance, from the great dis- 
tance, but in reality a ponderous mass, is detached by the 
action of the wind or sun ; and accumulating as it descends 
with great velocity into the valley, makes a noise like a dis- 
charge of a whole park of artillery. Near the summit of 
our ascent we found a small lake multiplying and reflecting 
the form of the mighty Jungfrau. On the summit of the 
mountain we ascended, (the Wengern Alp,) is a hotel, six 
thousand six hundred and ninety feet above the sea. Here 
many travelers, like ourselves, had arrived. Our dinner 
was soon served, consisting in part of roasted chamois- 
flesh, which, though rather black looking, was not unpalat- 
able after our great climb. We then began the descent 
into the Yalley of Grindelwald — passing down into a region 
of pines, and having on our side the great Snowy Eigher, 
or "Giant Mountain," almost as high as the Jungfrau. 
To our left rose the Foulhorn, of a conical shape, at a great 
distance; also the Wetterhorn and Schrekhorn on our 
right. The descent was by an extremely steep and terribly 
rough path. The vale and village before us looked most 
charming as we descended — gems of Swiss chalets in emer- 
ald settings of meadows. Approaching one of the latter, 
two Swiss girls raised the song of Kanz des Yaches — one 
of them accompanying her voice on an instrument. The 
effect in this unworldly glacier-environed vale, was fine. 
Other songs were also sung — this being their way of levy, 
ing a contribution on the stranger who penetrates into their 
valley. We at length reached a comfortable hotel in the 
village, where good tea and honey — the latter is very good 
here — repaired our exhausted frames, preparatory to another 
day of mountain-climbing. There are two great glaciers in 
this valley, coming out between the Eigher and Wetter- 
7 ^ I 



98 THE GREAT SCHEIDEGG. 

horn, so low down as to touch the wheat and clover patches. 
They have their green and blue ice, and their fountains, 
quitting the fixedness of ages for the fluidity of life-leap- 
ing gladly out like a long pent-up child. They form the 
sources of the Black Luischine, which roars through this 
vale. We have come in all twenty-four miles to-day. 

This morning, Wednesday, September 2d, our guide, who 
is polite and attentive — as Swiss guides generally are — 
called us up at an early hour, and soon after breakfast we 
began the ascent of 

THE GREAT SCHEIDEGG. 

We left the Yalley of Grindelwald, making a detour to the 
right by a most dreadful path, and explored part of a vast 
glacier, entering by an enormous fissure in it — the green 
ice hanging overhead. We descended to a rapid stream, 
which flows underneath the glacier. We were in a house 
of Alpine ice, and heard the crashing and washing of the 
stream in the invisible depths of the cold ice monster glacier. 
Afterward, ascending, we made an excursion on the sur- 
face, passing by some steps cut into the ice, our Alpine 
stick being of great service in enabling us to avoid slipping 
down into the caverns and chasms. Eesuming our journey, 
we continued for some hours ascending up, up — the giant 
Wetterhorn peak, on our right, rising almost perpendicu- 
larly thousands of feet — his summit held fast in chains of 
many-ribbed ice, the melting of which caused numerous 
torrents, which fell in cascades, some of them more than a 
hundred feet in descent. Here is Nature, grand, sublime, and 
mighty Nature ! here are the Alps, in their fearful majesty, 
with their glaciers, like suddenlj^ solidified seas, when tem- 
pest-tost! About noon we reached the summit, seven thou- 
sand feet high, and a single step left the green Swiss Vale of 
Grindelwald, with the two great, aged, yawning glaciers be- 
hind. We now descended again — snow mountains still on 



THE GREAT SCHEIDEGG. 99 

oiir right — one very "high, called the Monch, or Monk, from 
its resembling the apparition of a vast white-cowled or 
hooded priest. There are numerous cascades in this place. 
I counted nine from one mountain. We soon came to 
another glacier — the Rosenlaui Glacier, so called from the 
flushed, sunset rose-color of the ice. It is regarded as the 
finest in Switzerland. Near this is the Hotel Rosenlaui, 
where we dined. It is in the midst of a scene of wild sub- 
limity — cascades, torrents, and bald, bare limestone moun- 
tains ; all of Avhich continue visible for some time as one 
descends and new beauties unfold themselves. A cascade, 
called the " Cord," has a descent of more than five hundred 
feet. It is first a playful scrambler from rock to rock. It 
is lost in air; it reappears on another rock; it makes a 
leap — shivers, expands, condenses; and after performing- 
other evolutions, it disappears altogether in an abyss, like 
the ghost of a glacier. All the falls, however, which we 
have yet seen are eclipsed by the Reich enbach, which we 
saw this evening. It is a most attractive "thing of beauty." 
You linger near it, as if some portion of God's own love- 
liness were in it. It is more beautiful than Niagara, 
because smaller and more comprehensible by the mind. 
Niagara is too grand and mighty : it requires days to be- 
gin to feel it. The Reichenbach consists of six distinct 
falls, descending in all more than six hundred feet. A con- 
stant shower of mist envelopes the spaces around, and the 
vegetation is remarkably rich in consequence — a young, 
playful tornado, engendered by the rapidly rushing waters, 
being perpetually entangled among the branches. It is 
situated among and partly surrounded by high rocks. I 
stood and looked at the fearfully beautiful and endlessly 
varied scene of rushing, frothing, Alpine waters. It seemed 
as if Nature herself was proud of this her work, and 
cherished it in her bosom ; for some of the finest views of it 
are almost inaccessible. The Book of Nature has many 



100 GRIMSEL. 

uncut leaves in it, yet a single cataract like tliis is exhaust- 
less in its impressions. It is perpetually changing; and 
from whatever point of view contemplated is a new thing, 
all a delight. It has its dome of rocks, its hair of rainbows^ 
its drapery of misty and dancing clouds. As you descend 
into the sweet and lovely Swiss vale in which Meyringen is 
situated, the views are of the finest kind imaginable — the 
sublime and the lovely ; the snowy, hoary, everlasting 
heights above ; the great cataracts all around ; the chequered 
wheat-fields ; the peculiar costumes ; the carved gables of 
the old wooden houses, thoroughly Swiss in appearance, 
with extensive eaves ; the travelers arriving at the hotels, 
with couriers and guides — for travel here is the principal 
institution of the country — these all form a panorama of 
beauty. We reached Meyringen at six o'clock, having 
traveled twenty miles. 

But at length, this evening, Thursday, September 3d, we 
have reached 

THE GRIMSEL HOSPICE, 

having completed our day's allotment of twenty miles of 
mountains of almost continuous ascent, having made one of 
^he grandest, most sublime, and rugged passes in the Alps. 
The hotel, or hospice, consists of a single, large, low, thick- 
walled stone building, in a scene of tremendous desolation — 
apparently in the utmost limits of vegetation. Formerly it 
was a place where monks, who now keep it as a hotel, kept 
open house and hospitality to relieve the poor peasants 
whose necessities obliged them to make this pass in winter. 
Several dogs being maintained here to perambulate the 
snow-drifts, these met us with their wild, uncouth welcome 
as we arrived. The monks do all the service of the hotel, 
apparelled in black gowns and devotional with beads. They 
are kind and accommodating now for the money. My win- 
dow looks out on a black, deep, still, unfrozen lake— it 



GRIMSEL. 101 

being fed by a warm spring. Around it are rocks, or 
rather mountains, hundreds of feet high, bare and bald 
except where the hardy moss has found a footing of green- 
ness. A torrent from the glacier comes down from the top 
of the mountain along a crevice in the rocks — whitening 
and foaming till it falls into the lake. Beyond the summits 
of the mountains are great glaciers, jungles of ice, forests of 
icicles, far down in whose depths is no change of climate 
forever. One of these — that in which the Eiver Aar, 
which foamed along our course for the entire day, origin- 
ates — is eighteen miles long. Here the iron hand of Winter 
rests forever. The fir-tree and the Alpine rhododendron 
became smaller as we ascended, and then ceased altogether. 
A few rich, red, yellow, and blue flowers continued with 
us : these, during a few weeks in the year, live their life of 
beauty, where even the hardy oak and pine cannot subsist, 
and diffuse a loveliness around bleak and bare desolation. 
We left Meyringen this morning at eight o'clock. The 
scenery all. day has been very grand. Meyringen is in a 
fertile valley, and the inhabitants look better and the women 
are prettier than in other valleys. It is almost surrounded 
by water-falls, whose cold glacier-mothers look awfully 
down from vast heights on their playful, runaway, leaping 
children. ISTear the town rises a single old gray tower, the 
relic of a castle belonging once to a powerful family — all of 
whom are long since extinct. It stands as their solitary 
memento, and trees and shrubs are growing on it. The 
Reichenbach Cascade continues in sight for some time 
along our route. The upper chute is three hundred feet 
high — a vision of beauty. Our course lay along the Aar, 
which foamed furiously far below us in the deep, wild valley, 
till we traced its course up to its birth-place in the Aar 
Glacier. We passed many peasants with pack-mules each 
mule having a large wooden vessel full of wine strapped on 
each side of him. These are the ships of the Alps, convey- 

i2 



102 GKIMSEL. 

ing the produce of some of the fertile mountain slopes 
toward Italy into other regions ; also supplies for almost 
inaccessible hotels — for travelers must go everywhere — 
and the more difficult the more certainly visited. As we 
entered more deeply into the pass, we observed a change for 
the worse in the appearance of the peasants; more disease — 
almost every one appearing to have some personal de- 
fect — these valleys not admitting that due admixture of 
sunlight and shade which is necessary for the perfection of 
the human jjhysique. They grow too much in the shade. 
Yet they love their poor, rough, sublime country. We 
passed through a most lonesome village in a retired part of 
the valley. Nothing seemed to be there but goitre, priests, 
and Catholicism. They were all at a funeral. I stood still 
and saw the long, dreary procession pass by me. In another 
place near I could see the sexton digging the grave — throw- 
ing up with the clay numerous skulls and human bones — 
the ground having been perhaps very often reburied in. 
The women looked like dejected hags. A church bell from 
the Cathedral sent up a dismal toll through the retired and 
lonely valley. Ascending, it was interesting to notice how 
vegetation became thinner as we rose into the awful regions 
of bald rocks, where avalanches of mountains had come 
down, and where earth's past throes were written in the 
upheaving of the solid crust of granite to the light of day. 
But the Cataract of Handek, or the chute of the Aar — 
surely it is the eldest daughter of Niagara, with grander 
surroundings than its parent ! On each side rise, for thou- 
sands of feet, bold, bare, precipitous, almost perpendicular 
walls of mountains, whose tops are incessantly snowed 
upon, and all the gulches and crevices of which are mantled 
with the hoar of winter. The limits of vegetation are 
reached here, and firs and ferns brave the sterile scene. On 
one side comes down the great volumed, white, and furious 
Aar. From the Mettleback Mountain comes down a lovely, 



GRIMSEL. 103 

clear stream, born in an enormous glacier, wHcli is in 
sight. Both tend toward the same terrific precipice, more 
than two hundred feet high. Both make the plunge, some 
twenty yards apart, meet, and intermarry about half wa}-" 
down — the one clear and blue: the other white and rugged. 
They plunge into an awful, invisible chasm, and rise in 
mists and rainbows. The scene is terribly beautiful — the 
aged glaciers above ; the descending wind-torn waters ; the 
great elevation above the sea of the whole scene; the 
dreariness, remoteness, apparent sadness of all — made this 
place highly interesting. JSTot far from this is a hotel, 
where we dined, or rather breakfasted — coffee being our first 
meal before we start; breakfast — dejeuner cb la fourcfiette — 
being taking about twelve o'clock, and dinner in the even- 
ing, about six — when we have " done our due" for the day. 
At this place, as at most other places to which travelers 
resort in Switzerland, are exposed for sale all kinds of 
curious mementoes of the place — consisting of beautifully 
carved designs in cedar and other kinds of wood — the work 
of the Alpine dwellers during their dreary winter. Farther 
on our course we seemed to be entering the secret recesses 
of Nature, the great magazines of her mountains, where in 
snows and ice she stores up the sources of the great rivers 
of Europe. We ascended enormous rocks by steps cut into 
them. Cataracts dangle from the mountain-sides all around ; 
one of which — the Erlach — though small, is beautiful as a 
creation of fairy land domains : bursting from an inaccessi- 
ble glacier, it runs down the mountain slope about fourteen 
hundred feet ; occasionally taking a leap into the air, as if 
from exuberant spirits, it seems to pause till it regathers its 
waters on a rock below. We crossed numerous antique, 
arched stone bridges over the Aar. The air became icy, 
the glacier of the Aar came into view, and at length, after a 
great ascent, the grim stone hotel of the Gri nisei came into 
view. The Grimsel is historic. This being the pass com- 



104 FUBKA. 

manding access to tlie Valley of the Rhone, was held by the 
Austrians in the time of Napoleon I. and deemed impreg- 
nable. A guide from Giittanen — on the terms of a large 
reward, if successful, and death if not — conducted a French 
force of four hundred men, by a path known but to him, 
along the extreme summits of these mountains — a number 
of bayonets being held at his heart during the whole route — 
the path at various places presenting the appearance of utter 
inaccessibility, and apparently leading to an ambuscade — 
surrounded, by pathless snows and fearful precipices. They 
succeeded, however, in reaching a point, and attacking the 
Austrians from an unexpected position, routed them. The 
hotel is deserted in winter, except one servant, who takes 
provisions to last till the return of spring — keeping also 
two large dogs, which he sends out to scour the mountains, 
to relieve those who may be perishing in the snow. In the 
dark lake here no fish live ; nor does it ever freeze, being 
fed by a warm spring. Many goats are dwellers amidst 
these scenes. But perhaps the fittest dweller would be one 
in whom the well-springs of life were dried up, and who 
lingered on in the weariness of hope and the wretchedness 
of memory. 

This morning, Friday, September 4th, at eight o'clock, 
we left the gloomy Grimsel. We ascended to the summit 
of the pass, seven hundred and sixty feet higher than the 
hotel. Here are grand views of the great, hatchet-shaped 
Finster-Aar-Horn, rising fourteen thousand, seven hundred 
and twenty feet high, one of the four highest mountains in 
Europe. We now passed several lakes on the summit, very 
deep and dreary-looking, called "Todten See," or Lakes of 
the Dead, surrounded by utter savageness and desolation. 
Descending the sunny side of the mountain, which the short 
summer had clad in a carpet of moss and blue flowers, we 
saw in a vast valley, the Rhone glacier, consisting of an 
upper ocean of ice, extending many miles over the summits 



LUCERNE. 105 

of the Galeustock and other mountains — then a tremendous 
declivity greater than a frozen Niagara — then a solid lake 
of ice cradled in the vale, out of which rises the Rhone, one 
of the largest rivers in Europe. All around are grandeur 
and granite — ice, snow, and sublimity. But above all is 
heaven — the soft, sweet, blue sunlit air of summer, calling 
up to life the beautiful Alpine rhododendron to cheer scenes 
of utter desolation, while near to it is the glacier which no 
summer's sun can ever melt. The soft tinkling of bells 
from the herds in the valley far below, comes pleasantly np, 
mingling with the voice of the cascades heard all around. 
The pastoral and patriarchal life of Asia of four thousand 
years ago, the dream-time of history, exists here as a reality. 
Thus have ^ve traced the Ehone, which we first saw as a 
rapid river at Seyssel, in France, to its source in this gla- 
cier, which, with its high tops, simulating mountain peaks, 
its yawning seams, its murmuring little rills, seems like a 
vast white throne, where Nature sits in lofty majesty, work- 
ing and decomposing among her cold, material laws. These 
glaciers are not useless; they are the great regulators of cli- 
mate ; in intense summer heats absorbing caloric ; in rigor- 
ous winter, giving it out by their condensation. We reached 
the summit of the Furka, after a very laborious climb, abont 
mid-day. It is eiglit thousand, one hundred and fifty feet 
above the sea-level, the highest we have yet attained, except 
the Jardin on Mont Blanc. Vast mountain peaks, Alps on 
Alps, covered with snow, rugged and rigid and reddish, 
standing afar off as the eye can reach, seem climbing into 
heaven. The air on the summit was keen and icy, and 
some snow fell. A hotel is erected here, of whose cheer we 
partook, and then prepared for the descent into the valley. 
Our dinner, at the Lone Mountain Hotel, was of the black 
flesh of the wild chamois. 

We are now, this pleasant Saturday evening, September 
5th, in the beautiful Swiss town of Lucerne. It is with a 



106 LUCERNE. 

decided feeling of relief, that we enter again tlie more civil- 
ized scenes of life, having for some days been traversing 
the dark and gloomy mountains. Our trip to the Bernese 
Oberland was completed to-day. It seems almost like a 
retrospect of another world, so different is it from a city. 
The waterfalls no longer meet the eye on every mountain 
side, and the stern granite rocks, old and gray, are not now 
intruding on the eye, nor the little, lonely Swiss villages, 
with their projecting eaves, and their carved gables, nor the 
miserable population of beggars. Our trip was performed 
principally on foot, through narrow, winding mule-paths. 
We crossed four passes of the higher Alps, the Wengern 
Alp, the Great Scheidek, the Grimse], and the Furka. 
Yesterday evening we began the descent of the Furka. De- 
scending from the region of snows, our course lay along 
the sunny side of a mountain, which, as we got farther 
down, became clothed with verdure. We saw some Swiss, 
at great heights, mowing the grass on m-ountains inclined 
at an angle of eighty degrees. Others were watching their 
cattle on the mountain sides. No houses or trees, not even 
a pine was in sight. Higher up on the mountains extended 
glaciers, each of which sent down a roaring torrent. The 
scene was savagely beautiful. Further down, we entered a 
green valley, in the centre of which stood a small, neat 
Catholic village, over which seemed to impend an enormous 
glacier, like the sword of Damocles, which might come 
down at any time, and bring ruin to the peaceful, remote 
Alpine cottagers. We saw some thick sod cut in small 
squares and laid out to dry, which our guide informed us 
was for fuel in winter. How they keep themselves warm 
in these regions in winter is a mystery, no trees being here 
to produce wood, nor have these mountains any coal. 
Wood seems to be almost as scarce as the precious metals. 
The houses were roofed with stone. A large and beautiful 
stream flowed through the valley, receiving constant acces- 



LUCERNE. 107 

sions from the cascades on each side. Some of these cas- 
cades were wondrously beautiful, the water descending in 
blotches of spray. Some looked like a large, white towel, 
with the lower part torn and uneven, as the wind dallied 
with the waters. At length we emerged from the moun- 
tain and came upon the great St. Gothard route into Italy, 
at Hospenthal, a small Swiss village, near to which is an 
ancient, ruined castle, constructed on a high rock, looking 
very old, dating back perhaps one thousand years. The 
sight of this splendid road, one of the works of Napoleon, 
after so many miles of dreary mountain path, was cheering. 
We hired a return carriage to convey us the next morning 
to Fluellen, on Lake Lucerne. We passed the small village 
of Andermatt, above which, on the steep mountain slope, is 
a triangular forest of firs, the only trees visible ; these serve 
to protect the village from a grim, white-looking glacier on 
the mountain-top. Then we entered a tunnel, cut into the 
solid granite, admitting the road into a pass, which for soli- 
tary and savage sublimity, surpasses, for some miles, any 
thing we have yet seen. This is the place of the "Devil's 
Bridge," over which we passed. It seemed to be one 
of those gloomy, desolate spaces, into which his Satanic 
majesty might have retired when expelled from heaven. 
The bridge is built on the top of a more ancient one. Gray 
and naked granite rocks rise into snow regions on each 
side, their awful heights rent and jagged as if tempest- 
scarred. A foaming torrent roars and rushes at their base, 
by the side of which, descending in numerous zigzags, 
passes the route, the road being characteristic of him who 
despised impossibility; and the scene, for miles, stamped 
with gloomy savageness and sublimity characteristic of the 
Devil, who is the hero of the whole pass, and next after 
him Napoleon, whose name I had almost written Apollyon. 
In one place is a vast isolated rock, the "Devil's Stone," he 
having dropped it out of his claws, when rather hotly pur- 



108 LAKE LUCERNE. 

sued. But at length we came into a pleasant valley, the 
country of Tell. Here are the mountains on which he 
taught his son to scan a thousand fathoms depth of nether 
air, where he 'Svas trained to hear the thunder talk, and 
meet the lightning eye to eye." Here is a chapel erected 
near the spot where the noble Swiss hero lost his life in 
attempting to saye a child from drowning in the stream, 
neither of them being eyer afterward seen ; there is Altorf, 
old and quaint ; the town in which he liyed ; and a monu- 
ment and statue, yery old, in the market-place, indicate the 
spot where he shot the apple from his son's head. Some 
skeptical, contemptible scribbler, who wants to apply mathe- 
matical demonstrations to historical declarations, asserts 
Tell to be a myth, as if national traditions were eyer, or 
could be, entirely truthless. But the blue and loyely 

LAKE LUCERNE 

is in sight. In one of the fairy steamers plying on its 
smooth surface, we pass by scenery which seems chief of all 
the loyely creations of God. Mountains begin in yerdure, 
the little wayes kissing their feet, corn and wine grow 
around the base. You see the wheat, and oats, and grass 
regions higher up ; then comes the oak, the pine ; then 
mosses; higher comes the bleak and jagged granite; and be- 
yond all is a throne of glaciers and snow, where the clouds 
rest. Childhood, youthhood, manhood, hoary age, simul- 
taneously stand before you. Eyery part of the slope of the 
mountains, in which cultryation is possible, is ornamented 
with a little cottage, a square of wheat, or a meadow. Little 
yillages, apparently the abodes of happy contentment, rejoic- 
ing in the delicious climate ; the blue lake, the sheltering 
mountains, look at you from among flower-gardens, as you 
pass. Here is a pretty, little, fairy-like chapel, commemora- 
ting the spot where Tell rowed Gessler's yessel to the shore 
in a terrific storm, then shot the tyrant, and freed his 



LUCERNE. 109 

country. The hills all look romantic, and seem to breaili;' 
of happiness, freedom, and Tell. Grandeur and beauty, 
sublimity and repose, seem here to meet and mingle. You 
are silent from heart-fullness, at the completeness of beauty; 
and if the Grimsel would seem a fit place for one whose last 
hope Avas shivered, here would be the place to feel the first 
impulses of reviving hope, and pronounce that this 
chequered world-scene works itself on to beauty and har- 
mony. 

Lucerne, September 5th. But before me now rise four 
old towers, high in air, connected by the huge stone wall, 
yet in a perfect state, surrounding the land side of Lucerne. 
The deep-toned bells of the Cathedral are ringing out their 
evening chimes, as they have done daily for many years, to 
the many snow-capped peaks of the Alps visible in the dis- 
tance, and to the listening, throbbing waves of the lake, the 
sweet child of the mountains. Near the town, on the north, 
is the forlorn-looking, many-pointed, and lofty Mount Pila- 
tus, on which an angry cloud is ever resting. Here, local 
history says, Pilate, the wicked governor of Judea, retired 
in remorse, after permitting the legal murder of Jesus 
Christ, till life becoming intolerable, he threw himself into 
a lake on its summit, and left his name and evil aspect to it 
forever. On the southeast is Mont Righi, as cheerful and 
pleasant-looking as Pilatus is dark and sad. The hotel on 
the summit of Righi is clearly seen, and the sides of this 
high, isolated mountain are cultivated and humanized. 
Pilatus is a mountain of bad reputation ; out of it come 
storms and tempests, and there ghosts and magicians abide; 
but Righi has a good reputation among his fellow-mountains. 
Between them lie many peaks that have the snow-shroud on 
them. The environs of Lucerne are very lovely : there are 
meadows, wheat and vine-fields. The town and Canton are 
Catholic ; the former contains about nine thousand inhabit- 
ants. There is a very pretty monument here to the mem- 



110 LUCEENE. 

ory of the brave Swiss guards of Louis XYI., who fell at 
the Tuilleries, defendiDg the French monarchy, in 1792. 
The design is a lion, cut in a solid rock in a mountain side, 
wounded to death, yet grasping the French colors. The 
design is Thorwaldsen's, the great Swedish sculptor. 
Switzerland consists of twenty-five Cantons, or States, some 
of which consist of a single city. There are, in all, about 
two million, five hundred thousand souls, of whom about 
one million are Catholics, the remainder Protestants. Grer- 
man is more generally spoken than French. There is 
scarcely any nobility, as a class, in Switzerland. The gov- 
ernment is not unlike our own. There is a new election 
of Deputies every three years, one Deputy for every twenty 
thousand persons ; there are a President and Vice-President ; 
a Council of State, three members from each Canton ; a 
Federal Council of one hundred and twenty members, simi- 
lar to our House of Representatives. The regular army of 
the Swiss Confederation consists of about seventy-two thou- 
sand men, with a reserve corps, to be called out when neces- 
sary, of thirty -six thousand men. Switzerland, though a 
republic and free, is in many parts greatly tyrannized over 
by superstition. Still, many of the cities, as Berne, Zurich, 
Geneva, Lucerne, Lausanne, etc., present a prosperous ap- 
pearance. But the age of great peoples is not thoroughly 
established yet. 

September 6th. But 'tis a morn of exceeding richness 
and loveliness, and we are off for one of the finest views in 
Europe, if not in the world. The light clouds are rising 
from the bases of the mountains, and show underneath the 
extreme greenness and beauty of the vegetation. Mount 
Pilatus is as usual robed in dark clouds, like the thoughts 
that must have haunted the heart of him who "found no 
evil in that just man," yet permitted his execution. On our 
left, as we glide along in the light, pretty, little steamer, 
rises a gray tower, so old, a contrast to the rich, luxuriant 



MOUNT KIGHI. Ill 

cultivation of the lake side. See how shrubs of annually 
reviving Nature are mocking it, marking the fragility of the 
proudest, not self-renewing works of man, growing on it 
and out of it. But we land at Weggis, on the shores of Lake 
Lucerne, and prepare for our last Alpine climb. We are 
assailed by a numerous crowd, proffering their services as 
guides up the mountain, their prices gradually diminishing 
as our disinclination to employ them becomes apparent. 
We go on by a narrow mule-path, through little green 
meadowS; and under apple and pear-trees. Nine weary 
miles are before us, up a steep mountain. Many persons 
are ascending and descending, some on foot, some on mules, 
some borne on a chaise, or char-d-hanc, with handles, carried 
by four stout porters. The path winds round hither and 
thither. Here are immense rocks, formed of many smaller 
pieces, cemented together apparently by melted matter, giv- 
ing evidence that these are not their original places. The 
view becomes Alpine and old as we ascend and come to 
pastures on the hill-sides, where tinkling cattle feed. Many 
places show evidences that powerful agencies have heaved 
up these rocks from the boiling regions below the earth's 
crust. Half-way up, we come to a little, rustic stone chapel, 
a pleasant, peaceful sort of place, where are most lovely 
views of the lake below us. 

MOUNT RIGHI. 

By a Catholic fiction the ascent is likened to that up 
Calvary, and is divided into twelve stations, representing 
different assumed events of the Saviour's passage up 
that mount — a cross and picture marking each station. 
Rising higher, the pine trees, whose rich aroma scented the 
air below, disappear : the Alpine pastures alone are around 
us. Passing several hotels on various slopes and points of 
view, we attain the summit — the Righi Kulm — when a scene 
appears which it were folly to attempt to describe, or paint, 



112 MOUNT EIGHT. 

or even imagine. The height is about six thousand feet. 
Twelve or thirteen blue lakes are in the horizon — each one 
with neat, little Swiss villages, with church spires rising 
high in air, on their banks. East, extends a vast country, 
far below, cultivated to the highest degree — with white 
houses, towns, fields, forests. West, rise hundreds of Alpine 
mountains — snowy, and cold, and grand — like an army of 
gigantic white monsters, that had sat in frozen embalmment 
for ages. The scene is humbling, tranquillizing and devo- 
tional. There is God in all grandeur and beauty ; and this 
scene raises the soul to him in adoration. The bells of that old 
church in the quiet village below are ringing. How grandly 
comes the sound up here, like an anthem from Nature her- 
self in praise of her Creator. The scene is truly one of 
extreme interest. You stand on the highest point of the 
mountain, on which is a raised platform, and by its side a 
cross. Just before you rises the monster hotel, the three 
lower stories of which are of stone, the three next of wood. 
Here many persons of various nations — English, French, 
Germans, Americans, are constantly arriving and depart- 
ing — their costumes, as various as their climes. Around 
you, on the summit, is collected a crowd of ladies and gen- 
tlemen — their guides pointing out the mountains or lakes — 
some one reading the infallible Murray, the English guide 
book — others are talking — and amidst all rises the wail of 
music : a violinist is discoursing in old German airs — hand- 
ing round the hat occasionally for voluntary contributions. 
The ragged clouds of mist are rising out of the valley, 
hanging over the lakes, and gradually revealing, as they 
rise higher, the vast snow monsters of mountains, cradling 
in their cold hearts, glaciers, savage and grand-looking. 
But the great event is about to take place — the sunset, the 
glorious sun-death on the mountains. How he wraps him- 
self in his finest tapestry of clouds, which are gilded by 
even his death-beams. 'Tis beautiful, wondrous~no hurry, 



MOUNT RIGHI. 113 

no noise, no excitement — all calm, grand, and god-like. 
There even the cold glaciers in the desolate sides of the 
mountain-passes, afar off, seem lit up by loveliness. There, 
where no flower ever blooms ; where no tree grows ; where 
no bird sings ; where no man is or can come ; where is but 
everlasting winter — dance the golden rays from ice- peak to 
ice-peak, and blushes come upon the face of desolation. 
About two hundred mountains are visible; some of them 
the highest Alps — the Engelbergen, Finster-Aar-Horn, 
Schrekhorn, Jungfrau, Blumlis-A]pe, Gallenstock, &;c. The 
view extends into Italy, France, Germany, Austria, and 
over near twenty of the Swiss cantons. But here is that 
mysterious, miserable French invention to dine scientifi- 
cally — table dilute — which is a fleeting panorama of dishes 
and servants — soup, fish, potatoes, mutton, beef, chicken- 
salad, pudding, cakes, fruits — all accompanied with wine. 
Certainly eating makes "a full man" as well as reading. 
There is a sentimental German opposite me, who looked as 
if he might have written the " Sorrows of Werter," until 
wine unloosed his tongue. Now how he can talk ; what a 
profusion of Yahs ! yahs ! What work it is to talk German ! 
what a strong constitution it must require ! whereas French 
is as easy as circulating one's blood. And here is a big 
Englishman, beset with, a conviction of his own importance. 
It would seem as if he thought he carried the spheres on 
his shoulders. And here is an American, anxious to have 
it known that he is one, and looking any thing but well at 
ease till he produces a proper awe on his hearers by an- 
nouncing it. Some people are never at ease till others are 
not at ease. And here comes forth a Tyrolese, in regular 
costume — hat, feathers, stockings — with his guitar ; and he 
sings to us diners, Ranz des Vaches and many other airs. 
A plate, however, is immediately handed round to. the two 
hundred diners by his rather pretty wife; on which the 
guests may deposit something, to show their appreciation 
8 k2 



114 MOUNT RIGHI. 

of music. In the midst of the splendors of sunset, several 
small balloons, inflated with smoke, were let off. Imme- 
diately came the inevitable plate, which in Europe follows 
the slightest contribution to public gratification. The won- 
der is that a plate was not handed around in behalf of the 
sunset. 

But out from this scene of humanity to the regal mag- 
nificence of Nature. The moon is up, and the lovely land- 
scape is underneath its milder beams. There are the great 
snow-shining mountains — that ice world, so solemn, so soft, 
so silent — -just touching heaven. Mount Righi stands as the 
advance guard of the army of the Alps ; and though not so 
high as some other mountains, affords probably, on the 
whole, the finest landscape view in the world. The many 
and lofty snow-mountains, with their glaciers and granite 
peaks; the numerous blue lakes; the rich and beautiful 
country to the east — all afford a combination of the beauti- 
ful and sublime nowhere else paralleled. Such a scene of 
beauty imprinted on the heart is almost sufficient to redeem 
all its sorrows. But the next morning your memory may 
he busy in dreams with its youth, or fancy revelling in soft 
dreams of a future, when a vast, and yet soft sound, invades 
the entire premises of the Righi Kulm. It is the horn of the 
Tyrolean, which is sounded till every rag, and shred, and 
tatter of sleep is torn from the eyelids of all the guests, 
urging them to get up and see the Righi sunrise — the finest 
sunrise in any country. You get up from the land of 
dreams, and walk to the summit, a short distance above the 
hotel. There is the moon, preceded by Jupiter, and suc- 
ceeded by the morning star. Crowds of ladies and gentle- 
men are hurrying like yourself (and they have not all of 
them quite finished their toilet duties) in the dim, cold, 
dawn-light, up to the height. You get up and look around; 
and there is the holy morning in the east, flushing and 
blushing with the glory underneath. Two strata of clouds 



MOUNT RIGHI. 115 

are gilded curtains stretched across the couch of the sud. 
Far below you are many lakes — those of Zurich, Zug, 
Lucerne, bathe the foot of Righi ; the little, neat Swiss vil- 
lages of Imraensee, Schyss, Kussnacht, and others; the 
larger town of Lucerne, with its walls and towers; the 
innumerable white houses — and over all rests a surf-like 
mist, a spectral sea of fog. The morning is marvellously 
and unusually favorable. West and north of you, including 
the entire semi- horizon, are the mountains, looking singu- 
larly near and distinct, white and grand in the multitude 
of snow-peaks and glaciers. Look! the monster of them 
all, the Finster-Aar-Horn, has caught upon his giant sides an 
unwonted glistening. One by one, they seem to dip them- 
selves upward — that congregation of mountains — with a new 
glory. You turn around to the east. There, between two moun- 
tain peaks, glitters what is like a star, but brighter and 
more powerful than any star — the first upward segment of 
the sun. The great mountains which are higher than the 
Righi have caught his beams first. They were the last to 
relinquish and the first to regain ; and they give back in 
beauty what they get. The peculiar, rosy, Alpine glowing 
is on them. The Tyrolese winds his horn, and collects 
francs, semi-francs, and sous therefore; the big Englishman 
explains the mountains ; the ladies listen to him and try to 
talk learnedly. One of them thinks she will not ascend the 
Foulhorn. After this scene, the Grerman gets into raptures, 
and wants to quote Groethe; and the soft sunlight gradually 
comes around all : and the whole immense panorama of three 
hundred miles is bathed in light and color. The church- 
spires, far below you, catch the beams — the Jungfrau, the 
Eigher, the Monch, the Schrekhorn, the Wetterhorn, the 
Blumlis Alp, the Tetlis — all stand up in their snow-gar- 
ments of a thousand years, and each lone, old gray peak is 
kissed by the young morning. They are like a city of vast 
cathedrals^ ever pointing heavenward — all appealing to the 



116 ZURICH. 

feeling of devotion and sublimity in man as an altar appeals 
to its God. Lake Zurich; a large expanse of blue water, 
bathes the foot of Kighi, four thousand feet below, and on 
its farther side you see a lacerated looking mountain, which 
seems, like Mount Pilatus, to have incurred a savage des- 
tiny. It is the Berg Fall — all that is left of Mount St. 
Eosenberg — a large part of which fell down in 1806, filling 
up a third part of one of the lakes, destroying several vil- 
lages, and causing the destruction of more than four hundred 
and fifty persons, five hundred cattle and mules, and trans- 
formed a flourishing country into a desert. The like event 
will some day happen to the Kighi — being of the same 
formation geologically- — and it has already tottered : 

"Mountains have fallen — 
Leaving a gap in the clouds, and with the shock 
Rocking their Alpine brethren, filling up 
The ripe, green valley with destruction's splinters ! 
Damming the rivers with a sullen dash, 
Which crushed the waters into mist, and made 
Their fountains find another channel — this, 
This, in its old age, did Mount Rosenberg — 
Why stood I not beneath it ?" 

But we do not wish to predict such a calamity may befall 
Mount Kighi. May it have a thousand years of glorious 
sunrises and sunsets on its green, grassy summit. Were 
there a sea- view here, it would be indisputably the finest 
view afforded on earth. 

But changes again. "We are now at 

ZUKICH, 

on the " margin of its fair waters." This is one of the plea- 
santest places we have yet seen. We have descended into 
the region of the vine again. Yesterday morning we left 
the Kighi Kulm, taking one last look at its fair and grand 
panorama, which we hope will remain on mind and heart 



ZURICH. 117 

forever. We took the route to Kussnacht, on Lake Lucerne. 
J^y an ingenious fiction of tlie Catholics, this route as well 
as the one from Weggis, is supposed to be the aisle of a 
church; and at different stations are pictures on crosses 
representing scenes in the ascent to Calvary, which may 
encourage the devotion of the worshipers ; and at some 
points are placed very old-looking stone crosses. The 
morning was most lovely, and the vegetation here, in Sep- 
tember, is as rich and green -looking as in one of June's 
finest mornings in America. The snowy Alps were visible 
almost the whole way down ; and at length we arrived at 
Kussnacht, a quiet, pleasant old village, where Catholicism 
is as strongly entrenched as if Luther had never blown the 
bugle blast of reformation. The population were celebrat- 
ing the feast of St. Mary. In the Diligence, through a 
lovely orchard country, Ave now passed to Immensee, on 
Lake Zug, where, on a pretty little stream, we sailed to the 
town of Zug, old, Availed, castellated and quiet, situated in 
full view of Righi and the white-garmented Alps beyond. 
At Zug we got into a Diligence, and passed over the beau- 
tiful and finely cultivated country seen to the east of Righi. 
It is almost a constant succession of orchards, gardens, 
pretty and comfortable, though plain residences. The views 
of snow mountains were fine, in various directions afar. 
This is regarded as one of the best-cultivated parts of 
Switzerland. At Horgen, on Lake Zurich, where we ar- 
rived in the evening, we took the steamer to Zurich. The 
view of the lake, bursting at once on the eye, is truly lovely. 
The banks of the lake are a continued village; and above 
the houses on the slopes, grows the vine ''that cherisheth 
the heart of god and man." The waters of all these lakes 
are singularly blue, to account for which, many theories have 
been invented. Perhaps they have so long gazed on the 
tranquil blue of their skies, that they cannot reflect any 
other color. A glance of the eye along the shores, em- 



118 SCHAFFHAUSEN. 

braces one of the finest scenes imaginable : the sloping banks 
covered with vine-plantationS; and the numberless villages 
sitting on the blue borders of the lake. We are now in a 
Protestant Canton, where the Reformation took earliest and 
deepest root ; where the first edition of the Bible in English 
was printed ; where Protestant exiles found a home ; and 
where Zwingle lived and preached. I saw the Cathedral 
in which he held forth. The situation of the town is charm- 
ing. There are old towers and ancient walls, which latter 
are about being demolished. The promenades are fine 
along the river Limmat, which here passes into the lake. 
On the banks of this river is a splendid old grove, in which 
are some fine monuments : one to Gessner, the author of the 
" Death of Abel." The tomb of Lavater is also here. The' 
population is about sixteen thousand. There are many be- 
nevolent and useful societies here, and the whole place pre- 
sents a more progressive and onward appearance than the 
dull Catholic towns we have lately seen. The situation 
of the hotel at which we stop, '• Baur-du-lac," is very fine. 
It is in an elegant garden, on the banks of the lake, and 
from it rise, in distinct view, the great, craggy, precipitous, 
snowy Alps. 

But this rainy, dismal evening, we left the Protestant 
Zurichers to their quiet, honest life, by their lake, and came 
by railway, through a lovely, well cultivated country, to 
this old, towered town of 

SCHAFFHAUSEN", ON THE KHINE. 

We have seen the Rhine, the kingly Rhine — the word 
Rhine meaning King. We saw the noisy falls of the 
river, two or three miles from the town, which, with its 
gray, high stone towers, seems to be sepulchring up its own 
past. The country through which we passed seemed to be 
losing some of the characteristics of Switzerland — the 
houses with enormous eaves, built of pine plank several 



SCHAFFHAUSEN. 119 

inches thick, and with quaint carvings in front and on the 
gables, in which the Swiss so much delight — and to be 
assuming more of that heavy, square, dauby sort of style 
like the Germans. This town, however, seems rather more 
French than Zurich. Everywhere the French is the travel 
language — the language of courtesy, of the dining-room, 
and of the first address. If any one is in doubt as to your 
vernacular, he always begins by addressing you in French, 
as the assumed common language of Europe. One scarcely 
realizes that the world is old, in fresh, young, joyous, on- 
ward and upward America; but in these cities the hand of 
Time has written age on every thing. The population 
of these cities is generally stationary or retrogressive ; the 
energy of old has departed ; few houses are newly reared ; and 
the object of the people seems to be to live merely, and 
not to make the most of life, and urge it to its utmost ten- 
sion as in America. '' Sufficient to each day is the evil 
thereof," is a saying in practice exemplified. 

We visited at leisure the Falls of the Ehine, this morn- 
ing, September 10th, having had but a slight view of them 
when passing near in the railway last evening. We went 
down the river about two and a half miles below Schaff- 
hausen; saw the Cataract from the right side ; then crossed 
in a skiff below the Falls, and in full view of them ; ascended 
a steep hill laid out in walks, and deeply shaded with trees ; 
entered the Castle of Lauffen, built on a rock, almost over- 
hanging the Falls. In a room in the castle, we saw beauti- 
ful drawings of the cascades, and fine natural scenery of 
Switzerland, and the well-executed carved-work in wood, 
representing houses, castles, and many articles of domestic 
use and ornament. We saw the Cataract from three favor- 
able points of view in the castle, and saw the rainbows 
sporting like troops of spirits above it. It does not com- 
pare with Niagara, being only about one-third as high, and 
the water rushing down an exceedingly steep declivity, in- 



120 SCHAFFHAUSEN. 

Stead of leaping over projecting rocks, as Niagara. Yet 
the scene is most beautiful, and there gradual^ grows on 
one a feeling of sublimity. The quantity of water is very 
great, the Ehine being a large and noble river. The vine-clad 
hills around ; the two castles, one on each side of the Falls ; 
the three massive, .mossy rocks, rising high in and near the 
centre of the Falls ; the very beautiful little bay below the 
Falls, in which the river seems to roll round and round, as 
if to see how the coming-down waters looked, and admire 
the descent ; then the historical feelings connected with the 
old, fabled, castellated Ehine — the knight among rivers — 
make this Fall one of the most interesting in the world. 
Including the rapids above, the fall is about one hundred feet ; 
without them, on one side sixty feet ; on the other, forty-five. 
Indeed, it is a nucleus, an assemblage of waterfalls, a crowd of 
waterfalls collected at one place, each with an independent 
beauty. We returned to SchafPhausen, and strolled through 
this town of the middle ages. Much of the wall, and some 
of the gates, flanked with enormous towers, are entire. The 
gates are massive arches of stone- work supporting lofty 
stone towers, completely fortified ; some capable of contain- 
ing one hundred soldiers ; some square, others round ; and 
many of them one hundred feet high. They seem strangely 
out of character with the wants of the present age, but indi- 
cate a great age in the past of time. The middle ages are 
too much decried. Religion occupied more of man's atten- 
tion than at present, as is evidenced by almost all the 
massive churches of Europe belonging to that period. 
Superstition makes men strong sometimes. On one of the 
gates I noticed a very old inscription in Latin, on the inside, 
"Safety to the outgoing;" on the outside, "Peace to those 
entering." Time is dealing rapidly with these lofty towers; 
and where they are not preserved for prisons or arsenals, or 
objects of curiosity, there are great fissures in them., through 
which one can see into the deep dungeons beneath. We 



UNOTH. 121 

came to one of these, the largest, almost a town in itself, 
the 

"UN'OTH," OR "MUNNOTH," 

a vast stone-pile on a hill, to which I ascended by a narrow, 
covered stairway of hundreds of steps. I met a great many 
very well dressed little boys, attended by grave, good- 
humored looking priests, part of the castle being now used 
as schools, which are the modern defenses and fortifications. 
Arrived at the end of this corridor, I saw a notice in 
French, to travelers, importing that whoever wishes to 
enter should pull the rope. I saw a rope attached to the 
door then, extending upward more than one hundred and 
fifty feet to the top of the highest tower. One or two 
vigorous pulls at this produced a loud " Yah ! yah !" at the 
other end ; and, on looking up, I saw a woman leaning out 
of one of the portholes, and immediately a large key slid 
down to me on the rope, with which opening the massive 
door, I entered, and found myself in a tower like a tube 
with a winding, stone staircase. The door closed behind 
me, and I was locked up in the Castle of Unoth. Eound 
and round the staircase in the tower I went, and up and up. 
The walls of the tower are eighteen feet thick ; in the walls 
are port, or airholes, long and narrow, for the admission of 
a little gray light. Arrived at the top of the tower, 1 found 
it expanded into several large rooms, in one of which I 
found the family of the guardian of the tower, consisting 
of himself — a large and most diabolical-looking Dutchman 
— his wife, an intelligent-looking woman, and their daugh- 
ter, really an interesting, pretty, and well-formed young 
lady, occupying these elevated and neatly-kept rooms. 
From the portholes they showed me glorious views of the 
old town underneath, with its tiled roofs, and the blue 
Rhine, young as it was a thousand years ago, running 
through the town. The tower in which I stood issued out 

L 



122 UNOTH. 

of a vast circular building of stone, the principal part of tlie 
fortification, and all around it was a deep ditch or moat. 
The old lady showed me these various things. She speak- 
ing German, of which I understood but little, and I answer- 
ino' in French, of which she understood none. So the 
conversation was not mutually edifying. The grim, old 
father glared at me, and the old lady now handed the pon- 
derous bunch of keys to her daughter, and I was about to 
explore this old creation of Feudalism with the fair daughter 
of the castle. We descended the stone steps, she preceding, 
the old people remaining above. "We came to several side- 
doors, one of which was unlocked b}^ the lady of the tower. 
We entered a lofty room floored with small pebble- stones, 
the windows were very small and high. Here was a vast 
collection of arms, armor, battle-axes, lances, and all kinds 
of warlike implements used in the middle ages, hanging 
and lying around in the grim apartment, in disused and 
gory grandeur. From this a door opened on the roof of the 
castle. This roof was of stone, on which much grass had 
grown, and it was surmounted by a high wall in old, war- 
like times, the soldiers standing on the roof of the castle, 
and being defended, to some extent, by the wall. Through 
the roof were several circular openings, through which we 
could look down into an apparently deep dungeon under- 
neath. Descending lower, we entered this dark, immense 
apartment. It was circular, and had numerous columns 
supporting the thick, stone- vaulted roof, from which con- 
tinually fell drops of dampness, rendering the stone floor 
quite wet. Very little light, and that thin, gray, unhappy 
sort of light, came in from the holes above. The room was 
vacant, though large enough to contain, with ease, one 
thousand soldiers. Half of it was under ground. A side-door, 
which I had not observed before, was opened by lock and key, 
revealing a staircase leading much lower down, and appar- 
ently into dark immensity. A lantern hung on one side 



UNOTH. 123 

of the narrow stone descent. With a match, which I had 
not noticed she carried, my guide lit the candle, and we de- 
scended a great distance into the earth, and came at length 
to a narrow, winding avenue between the foundation-walls 
of the castle, leading on — on, I knew not whither. The 
darkness was dense, and the walls Avere damp and cold. 
My slightly-formed, fair, young guide led the way, how- 
ever, and I followed her into this dark, subterraneous 
chamber. We walked some minutes, I not knowing whether 
her father, the beetle-browed Dutchman, might not have 
used her as a decoy to introduce travelers into this place, 
that he might deal death or robbery on unknown individuals, 
a deed so easily committed by the powerful resources he 
had at his command in these subterranean galleries. I had 
observed my guide grow somewhat pale, and that her hands 
trembled when we were about descending to this place, in- 
somuch that she was at first quite unable to unlock the 
door of the staircase. Most of the Khine castles, in their 
long lives of a thousand years, have been stained with blood 
from '^turret to foundation-stone;" and the facilities for 
secret murders in these dark passages, which lead into each 
other, and lead no one knows where, are very great. 
Besides, the disappearance of a simple traveler, who has 
only registered his name at a hotel, who never comes back^ 
would excite but fcAV inquiries, in a strange country where 
he is utterly unknown, and he would soon be forgotten — 
the landlord would keep his baggage — the robber his money 
— hide his bones, and ''there an end." Threading this long- 
avenue thus in the dark, it is not to be wondered at that I 
observed every appearance, trod my way cautiously, and 
felt resolved, if necessary, to sell my life — not cheaply. But 
my guide was true. To my inquiries as to where we were 
going, she returned no intelligible answer. But at length 
she led me to another staircase where I saw a glimmer of 
the light of heaven, and we soon emerged from the dark 



124 BALE. 

gallery. I gave ner a fee, she unlocked the castle door, and 
it was with a sensation of relief that I found myself out into 
the fresh, loving air and sunshine, after exploring the 
damp, dark dungeons of the Castle of Unoth. In this castle 
a Pope was secreted, during the middle ages, by some of his 
friends, and the Council of Constance (who demanded him) 
defied, and no doubt dark and horrid crimes committed 
which none but God could see. Schaft'hausen is in the 
dominions of the sovereign Prince of Wurtemburg. It has 
near seven thousand inhabitants. 

But we are now in the old Roman town of 

BASLE (or bale) ON THE RHINE. 

'Tis a dull, sad, and rainy evening. From my window I 
look out on a strong, old wall, over which the green ivy 
has grown. The Rhine, almost as majestic as the Missis- 
sippi, flows by in historic majesty. Here the old walls 
encircling the city and their numerous towers are almost 
entire. The place of the moat, or wide, deep ditch, which 
could, in time of a siege, be filled with water, is now 
converted into a green, pleasant, fruitful garden. In some 
places the towers have inscriptions on them, indicating them 
to be the work of the sixth or seventh century. The war- 
like works of the Romans outlived the Roman Empire. "We 
have visited the old, red-looking Cathedral, built of red 
sandstone, in the year 1010 ; have been in the room where 
a General Council sat, and where a Pope was elected ; and 
have seen the red marble tomb erected to the learned 
Erasmus ; and have been also in the deep crypt under the 
church, where repose the remains of the royal family of 
Baden. This is one of the small city Cantons of Switzer- 
land. It is Protestant, and the splendid churches erected 
by the gorgeous religion of the Catholics, are now devoted 
to strict Calvinism, which worships among tombs and van- 
ished glories of a past age. The church, internally and 



BALE. 125 

externally, is a splendid triumph of tlie noble science 
of architecture. 

We left Schaffhausen, yesterday, at two o'clock by Dili- 
gence, passing over the fine, hard, smooth roads of this 
country, at rather a slow rate. The country was well culti- 
vated, abounding in meadows, clover, and grain. In some 
places we saw the oats yet uuharvested in the fields. 
A^^omen were at work in the fields as well as men, and 
their appearance was somewhat suggestive of the slaves on 
a cotton plantation. Whether their condition was better 
than that of the slaves, in being lords of the liberty to toil 
for an uncertain subsistence, rather than in toiling without 
any anxiety for the morrow, with the certainty of plenty for 
life, we shall not here discuss. As usual in this country, 
there were no fences, and but few hedges, all the fields 
being open and exposed, and not otherwise distinguished 
from each other, except by the various crops in them. 
There were few isolated houses ; but in the distant valleys 
we saw numerous villages, the abodes of the agricultur- 
alists, and occasionally tall, old turrets, which marked 
where a warlike castle had been, would rise to view, telling 
that the past of those fertile valleys had been very different 
from their present. The usual Catholic crosses of stone 
stood on the roadside, some with the spear and sponge. 
After four hours and a half riding in the Diligence, we cam.e 
to the village of Waldshut, on the Rhine, where we left the 
Diligence and took the cars for Bale. This village is on 
the borders of the Black Forest of Germany. The walls, 
and gates, and towers in that place looked very old; in some 
instances utterly fallen down, or incorporated into more 
modern buildings, and all appearing desolate in their great 
age. Vines and fruits of all kinds are here cultivated. We 
at this place crossed the Rhine and re-entered Switzer- 
land, our baggage being previously subjected to an exam- 
ination. 

l2 



126 BALE. 

Bale has about twenty- seven thousand inhabitants, and 
consists of two parts, divided by the Rhine, but connected 
by a wooden bridge. It is principally Protestant, who, as 
in other European towns, are engaged in a multitude of 
little manufactures — ribbons, watches, pictures, carved- 
works in wood, keep restaurants, cafes. Each profession that 
in America is managed by one man, is here subdivided into a 
multitude of minor ones, the greater population in Europe 
rendering every distinct part of any thing a sort of specialty, 
by which means works of those kinds are generally better 
than with us. In the city, and near it, are man}^ remains 
of the old Roman dominion along the Rhine, The view 
from a terrace planted with trees, back of the Cathedral, 
and immediately over the Rhine, is beautiful, embracing a 
part of the Black Forest. Near the Cathedral, or Minster, 
as it is called, are the cloisters, covered and enclosed places 
for the monks to walk in and study, in the old times when 
there was a monastery attached to each church — now used 
as burial-places for the dead, and also then — dead men's 
bones and graves being important adjuncts to the Catholic 
religion. The stone slabs^ with the inscriptions in various 
languages, form the floors, and are placed along the walls, 
and have dates back for many hundreds of years, and have 
curious carvings and armorial bearings, telling of dust that 
was once high in rank. 'Tis a humiliating sight to the 
vainglorious and proud, and a place of instruction to all. 
Nowhere has the stern reality, to which we all must come, 
of rottenness and corruption, the decay and oblivion that 
must enwrap all, been so forcibly impressed on the mind, as 
by these failures in attempts to preserve a slight memento 
which soon becomes mute, mouthless, and meaningless. Let 
me die and go regularly into dust, and become vegetables, 
trees, animals, grass, or beer-barrels, and not have the 
mockery of a monument. But alongside this Campo Santo 
flows the Rhine, regardless of human excellence or decay. 



BALE. 127 

I also visited tlie Museum, which is quite interesting, 
having many fine paintings of the Dutch school, as well as 
many Egyptian and Eastern antiquities; poisoned arrows; 
mummies, rolled and unrolled, glaring at you from sockets 
sightless for four thousand years. Two paintings seemed 
especially striking: one, a dead Christ, which is truly re- 
markable — there is the vividness, the reality, the life-death 
before you; it represents him lying extended, awfully 
dead, just before the entombment. The other painting is 
the deploring of the women at the death of Christ, a paint- 
ing of high merit, on which mind and genius are stamped 
on canvas for the admiration of a thousand generations. 

But for several days during our stay in Bale I have been 
quarrelling extensively with the Swiss government, espe- 
cially the Postal department. I have not indeed been 
reforming Switzerland, as a certain ambitious young Amer- 
ican, who undertook, not long since, to reform Austria — 
the consequence of which was he became acquainted with 
the interior walls of a prison — but I have been making 
attempts to recover my baggage, entrusted to the Post 
department at Berne, to be conveyed to this point — that, 
returning from the trip to the Bernese Oberland, I might 
meet it here. Generally the Postal departments in Europe 
are thoroughly reliable, especially in France. The trunk 
being valuable, and having paid for its safe delivery — hold- 
ing a receipt from the department — they bestir themselves 
very much. There is much talk in various languages, espe- 
cially in that unknown tongue which persons use who un- 
dertake any other language than their vernacular. Tele- 
graphic dispatches, letters, &c., are sent to Berne, but in 
vain ; the baggage is stolen by some one, misplaced, lost, or 
gone traveling on its own responsibility. Nobody is to 
blame of course ; accidents will happen ; the fault must be 
at Berne, &c. At length I determined to return to Berne. 
Passing first out of the old feudal gates in the walls of the 



128 BALE. 

city by a Diligence to a depot outside the walls ; then by one 
of the slow Swiss railways, that scarcely average twelve 
miles an hour, I arrived near the chain of the Jura Moun- 
tains, through which the tunnel not being completed, I 
cross in another slow Diligence, wending up and down the 
mountains, affording fine views ; thence by railway to Berne — 
arriving at four o'clock in the evening — the whole distance 
being only sixty miles. Here nearly the same exercises 
were enacted as at Bale ; the baggage had been sent ; some- 
body was in fault ; the fault must be at Bale. 

But who could discern 
Whether at Bale or at Berne, 
Or at Berne or at BMe, 
Was the fault of the mail ? 

The practical conclusion to be drawn from all this is 
to carry no other baggage when traveling except a purse 
and a tooth-brush ; or if any other be taken, never to entrust 
it to the Postal departments on the Rhine. In both cities I 
had the assistance of the American representatives, who 
exerted themselves very promptly, but without effect — the 
trunk being so skillfully and ingeniously lost that no trace, 
no sign remained behind. Eeturning to Bale I had glorious 
views of the great Alps mountains, in their cold clothing 
of snows and glaciers, through which I had wandered since 
leaving Berne the previous time. Some of the views in the 
peaceful valleys of the Jura Mountains were lovely, and we 
passed many little old stone villages, nestled for many hun- 
dred years in their green solitudes. The scenes were in- 
finitely various — itself a proof that nature belongs to a sys- 
tem which has eternity for one of its ideas. 

In Switzerland, that land of snow mountains, and for 
playthings cascades and waterfalls, we have been above a 
month. Its different valleys and mountains, grow very 
different kinds of peoples as well as plants. Centuries of 



STRASEOUEG. 129 

the same kind of influences of soil, air, climate and sun 
have wrought a diseased degeneracy in some of the Alpine 
valleys which, it is painful to contemplate. A continua- 
tion of the same kind of influences will infallibly de- 
generate man. He requires variety. Not useless, therefore, 
are wars and those great convulsions of the social system. 
The object of the world is to develope the entire suscepti- 
bilities of human nature. So long as we in America con- 
tinue a restless, roving, migratory sort of people, occupied 
in settling new lands and territories, and agitated about the 
respective interests of our various sections, our elections, 
our parties, we shall continue a great people. So long as 
the Swiss, the Italians, some portions of New England — 
whether from love of country, or indolence, or prejudice — 
are surrounded by a continuation of the same kind of influ- 
ences, their nature will narrow. Mankind had, long ago, been 
extinct but for the confusion of tongues, which obliged them 
to separate into other regions, and form new communities, 
where the action of new influences might exercise and de- 
velope new principles, and renew man himself. 
But the great, deep-toned bell of the Cathedral of 

STEASBOURG 

is sounding out its burden of hours gone to the night air. 
How grand a creation is that pile of net-looking carved 
stone-work. It should stand in the midst of an American 
prairie, as a thing silent, grand, eloquent, and unapproach- 
able — this great cathedral of the eleventh century, that was 
four hundred and twenty-four years in building, and the 
spire of which reaches higher toward heaven than any other 
in the world — being four hundred and seventy-four feet 
high from the pavement. 

We left Bale, Tuesday, September 14, at one o'clock, on 
the railway, for Strasbourg. The day was pleasant, and 
our course lay along the lovely, level, fertile Valley of the 
9 



130 STEASBOURG. 

Rhine. On our left rose the Jura and Yosges Mountains, 
from many of whose conical and dome-like peaks looked 
down ruins of castles, many of them highly picturesque. 
I noticed four gray, grim, towers, in one place, standing 
around the fallen-down walls of the central building. Many 
of them stand on projecting capes of red sandstone, which 
slope down from the mountains toward the level Rhine 
valley. There is along here a curious wall of unknown 
origin, made of unhewn stones, without cement, called the 
Wall of the Pagans. Remains of this kind were quite nu- 
merous — almost every hill of difficult access having a tower, 
or a wall, indicating where a castle had been ; and at the 
base of the hill is generally a small village. We are now 
in La Belle France, having entered it a mile or two from 
Bale, at a small place called St. Louis, where our baggage 
was examined and our passports demanded. The latter 
were not altogether in form; but after a little inspection 
of them and us, they were vised by a special commissioner 
of police for the United States, and we were courteously per- 
mitted to pass. The country around our route looked very 
beautiful indeed. Long avenues of the graceful poplar and 
the green willow met the eye. Tobacco flourished finely — the 
sugar-beet, also, and fine fields of clover and grass, in square 
plats, were interspersed with fields whence the golden wheat 
had been lately reaped. In some of the towns were manu- 
factures of cotton prints and stained papers for rooms. We 
are now in the Rhin€ Yalley, with its glory and its garni- 
ture of castles, furnishing a gallery of antiquity and feudal 
association unsurpassed anywhere on the earth. 

This morning, September loth, which is a delicious and 
lovely day, we employed a guide in order "to do Stras- 
bourg." These guides are generally, or very often, idle 
individuals "loafing" about interesting places in the travel- 
ing season, and very ready, if they see an individual gazing 
at any thing curiously, to profier him some information — ex- 



STRASBOURG. 131 

pectin g to be employed as guides. Often they are drunken, 
ignorant and unreliable; but they know the localities. 
We went into the great cathedral, and saw its forest of 
stately Gothic pillars — some of them as large as an ordinary 
sized church — rising high and supporting the roof and 
tower, like giant oaks, on which rests heaven. Here Cathol- 
icism yet worships in all its glory. At one end is the 
great clock, which can do almost any thing. It calculates 
eclipses; gives the equation of time; shows the motions 
and appearances of the planets ; has a perpetual almanac ; 
shows all the holy days of the Catholic Church; makes 
many moral and religious suggestions by means of an 
automaton : and, in short, is a wonder, almost a miracle, of 
machinery. 

At twelve o'clock, a large brazen cock, near the top of 
the vast establishment, flaps his wings and crows thrice, 
heard all over the church ; the figures of the Twelve Apos- 
tles march around in a circuit ; the figure of Death strikes 
the hours; and the whole clock becomes almost animated. 
I ascended the tower of the Cathedral to the platform, more 
than three hundred feet high. The great spire, visible as a 
thing of beauty, " cleaving the sky," long before one reaches 
Strasbourg, extends like a woven work of stone and iron, 
gradually tapering to the top, where it terminates in a 
cross about one hundred and seventy-four feet higher. The 
ascent can be made hj a slender stairway of stone and iron 
nearly to the top ; but it is a feat more to be admired than 
imitated, as several persons have fallen down, and some 
have precipitated themselves, overpowered by that singular 
feeling that impels one to leap down when one is at a great 
height. It is the highest church spire in the world,, prob- 
ably also the grandest and in the most perfect taste. The 
view from the platform is truly grand ; the city with its 
two walls, one of square stone, the other inside wall of 
earth, terraced and planted with trees ; the houses red-tiled ; 



132 STRASBOURG. 

the streets; the throbbing human life below; the level 
valley of the Ehine ; the hills of the Vosges ; the Black 
Forest, all in sight. But chief of all is the wonderful poem 
of a church below, a lace-work in stone, with its infinite 
forms of columns, its numerous statues of different centuries, 
and the complete combination in a whole of exquisite beauty 
and grandeur. The church enjoys the unusual distinction 
among European churches, of having one family of artists, 
under whose superintendence the works were carried on. 
Erivin of Steinbach, his son, and afterward his daughter 
Sabina, whose remains are interred within the church. 
The nave of the church was begun in A. D. 1015. In a 
chapel adjoining the church, we saw many most ingeniously 
•carved works formerly belonging to the church, but some 
of Avhich were broken at the time of the first French revo- 
lution, when the brass of churches was used to make 
oannon, and the iron was melted to form balls, when all 
■churches were desecrated and worship ceased. There is 
here also an old plaster-cast of the architect of the church, 
in a posture delightful to persons phrenologically given, as 
it represents him standing erect, looking up, as if watching 
each stone as it was placed on the edifice, in profound 
thought, and with his finger on the organ of constructive- 
ness. I saw, also, the inside of the ancient clock, the 
present one in the Cathedral being made in imitation of the 
old one. The old bronze cock of great size is here. It had 
done duty as crower on the top of the clock for three hun- 
dred years. It will never crow or flap its wings again. It 
is of very singular and ingenious mechanism. In another 
church, now used by the Protestants, we saw the beautiful 
tomb of Marshal Saxe, the great hero warrior of the reign 
of Louis XV., the work of twenty-five years, by the French 
sculptor PigoUe. It is very expressive and grand, and, in 
some respects, rather better than that of Napoleon at Paris. 
There is a fine figure of the Marshal in the most command- 



STRASBOURG. 133 

ing attitude, descending to the tomb ; the coffin is repre- 
sented in black marble ; Death is at one end, a bony, 
horrid figure, opening the lid ; France is represented by a 
female figure weeping and attempting to drive death away; 
the symbols of the defeated nations, Austria represented by 
the eagle, England by the lion ; and others also are cower- 
ing and shrinking beneath his glance ; all in immense, mas- 
sive marble, and wonderfully expressive. In the same 
church we saw also an embalmed body, in excellent preser- 
vation, of a celebrated knight of the middle ages, which, 
with the body of his daughter, also embalmed, though not 
so well preserved, had been found in the crypt of this 
church, where they had lain four hundred years. 

Strasbourg is very strongly fortified, and contains a garri- 
son of six thousand soldiers. The population is about 
seventy thousand. The walls are modern, and some of them 
are mounted with cannon; and alongside of them are the 
artillery corps, going through, all day, with the process of 
loading and discharging their pieces so as to give them 
skill. Soldiers, in armed bodies, are constantly met in all 
the streets and hotels. They are the finest and largest- 
formed and bodied part of the people, and probably tend to 
perpetuate the race physically, and keep the nation from de- 
generating. We were in the arsenal, which contains fire- 
arms for one hundred and fifty-five thousand men, and nine 
hundred and fifty-two pieces of cannon ; also in the cannon, 
bomb, and mortar foundry, which all looked as if the ex- 
termination of mankind was a flourishing business. The 
letter ''N," for Napoleon, is stamped on every thing — gun, 
cannon, and bomb. The Emperor governs too much, he 
lets the governing hand be too plainly, palpably, and fre- 
quently seen. He not only has the French people in chains, 
but he shows them the chains. He lays on the recollec- 
tions of the first Napoleon too thick. The principle of belief 
was astounded by the first Napoleon's actions : and as 

M 



134 BADEN-BADEN. 

actions in their effects, never die, his exploits seem to 
require after ages for their full notoriety. 

One of the streets here is called the "Fire street," in 
consequence of a tremendous bonfire made here in 134:8. 
The Jews having been accused of poisoning the wells and 
fountains, two thousand of them were burnt here at one 
time. This was the terrible Christianity of the middle ages. 
Though Strasbourg is in France, it seems to be rather more 
of a German than French citj^. 

But here we are this evening, Wednesday, September 
16tli, at 

BADEN-BADEN, 

one of the fashionable watering-places of Germany. It is a 
pretty place, the houses, which are principally hotels, being 
large. The city contains about six thousand inhabitants, 
and is situated on the slope of hills descending from the 
Black Forest. It is much cleaner than the abominable old 
French and Swiss towns, in which thousands of noxious 
scents, eacb one a distinct nasal horror, meet you at all 
points. We left Strasbourg at two o'clock, in an omnibus 
for Kiel, crossing the Ehine on a bridge of boats. Entering 
the territories of the Grand Duke of Baden, our passports 
were demanded and luggage examined. The officials are 
instructed to do these things courteously, and there is little 
or no trouble if they are met in a corresponding manner. 
We got on the Duke of Baden's railway at Kiel, and arrived 
here about five o'clock in the evening, passing over the fer- 
tile valley of.the German side of the Rhine. Mucli of the 
land was in meadows ; and we saw the peasants, women as 
well as men, the former in rather singular costumes, busily 
employed in the fragrant haymaking. Tobacco, beets, cab- 
bages, and even corn, though the latter is short in stature, 
and small in production, are cultivated. Many of the 
houses are almost covered with the vine, protruding it3 



BADEN-BADEN. 135 

rich products in red globules ; and the ivy, which is a great 
institution in all this country, clasps all the old walls and 
ruins, all fleetly passing before the vision as you flit rapidly 
through the country. Baden-Baden, or the Place of Baths, 
the name being repeated to distinguish it from another 
Baden, is probably the pleasantest place in Europe, in sum- 
mer. The railway comes up to it in a valley between two 
high hills. The waters are thermal and have a slightly 
acidulous taste. They are used both for bathing and drink- 
ing. Promenades and carriage-drives are numerous among 
the green, sloping, shady hills. The roads and streets are 
kept remarkably clean. Large and elegant buildings, with 
stately colonnades, in which are paintings, statuary, are 
erected, in which to promenade, converse, drink of the 
waters, look at the pretty and finely-dressed women, and 
gamble. The latter is practiced to a far greater extent than 
I have ever seen anywhere. Two large faro-tables, also 
■rouge-et-noir, are nightly crowded, both by men and women. 
Splendid devils in the form of women, outside jewelry, dia- 
monds, richness of all kinds p inside harlotry and unhappi- 
ness, here congregate. I saw several women here exquisitely 
beautiful, and with all the air and intellect and grace of 
damned angels about them. Fine music, dancing, diversifj^ 
the scene ; the air is soft, pure, exquisite ; the scenery ro- 
mantic ; the views of castles, ruins, etc., interesting: the 
waters invigorating; and Baden-Baden is a paradise for 
lust. 

But it is morning, one of the rich, clear mornings of mild 
September. From one of the high hills or mountains of 
Baden look down the valley, and on a past of more than a 
thousand years, the old walls of a gray castle. We are on 
our way to it by one of the winding roads through the 
forest. How clear the air, and how green the fir forest, and 
how the thick mosses carpet the entire earth, and the aroma 
of the pines comes gratefully to the senses. Up, up through 



136 BADEN-BADEN. 

a dense pine shade in the Black Forest of Germany. 
English carriages, with pretty, unhappy, romantic-looking 
ladies within, all going to see the old ruin der alien schloss. 
We came at length near its gray, high walls looking down 
on us from the garment of thick ivy, grown almost into a 
tree. Its roof is all gone, and time has knocked down all 
the upper parts of the walls. Yet more than a hundred 
feet remains. You climb stone steps, and ascend walls 
crumbling into decay ; you pass doors leading into subter- 
raneous abysses. You get on the wall. Below you extends 
a vast scene of forest and rock. But you are only one-third 
of the way up. Here is another part of the castle attached 
to the solid rock, you mount it, its walls twelve feet thick; 
and you ascend the third or highest part, for it is equal to 
three ordinary-sized castles, growing on the mountain rocks. 
What a view ! Twenty or more of the villages of the Ehine 
valley, with their red-tiled roofs ; the great Ehine himself; 
the Schartz Wald, or Black Forest, with its supernatural 
associations, are before you ; and around are the vast walls, 
halls, courtyards, reception-rooms, roofless, all ruin, and 
nothing alive but the ivy now in bloom, on which the bees 
are feeding; trees, pines, beeches, chestnuts, hundreds of 
years old, growing out of the walls, and taking root in what 
were the private rooms of feudal lords and royal ladies. 
The elements have conquered what the battering-rams 
could not. The slow march of time has humbled, leveled, 
brought to dust, what the fierce tide of war essayed in vain. 
From this ruin a path leads through the fir forest to high 
rocks which look as if they were a castle petrified. They 
are deep in the forest. Some of the rooms in the old ruin 
have been roofed, and there is now kept in them a restau- 
rant, in which the weary climbers, ladies and gentlemen, 
may indulge in wine and eatables, on rustic seats under the 
shades of the castle, and the pines. Little is known about 
this castle, except that it was long the residence of the 



HEIDELBURG. 137 

princes and margraves of the house of Baden. Nearer the 
town, on a hill above it, is the new castle. This is cele- 
brated for its horrid dungeons, oubliettes, or chambers of for- 
getfulness ; inquisitorial racks ; images of the Virgin, which 
condemned persons are required to kiss, and immediately 
iind themselves grasped in the arms of a monster, with arms 
of iron spikes, or else at once fall down into regions of 
darkness, there to starve or drown. Having sufficiently 
"supped full of horrors" in the Castle of Unoth, I did not 
care to explore those of this castle. The grounds around 
are beautiful ; terraces and carved stone ascents ; aged trees, 
and shady recesses among the vines and the dark ivy. But 
the castle itself seems to charnel up a wordless past. 
We are now in 

HEIDELBUKG. 

Yesterday we left Baden-Baden by railway for this place. 
Our course lay along the level valley of the Ehine, which, 
except in some portions, did not appear to be so fertile as 
in the parts previously passed. It was chiefly in meadow, 
but the grass was short and thin. Every effort appears to 
be made by the farmer here to procure manure, which, with 
skillful cultivation, is doubtless their principal reliance, as 
the natural fertility of the soil has been exhausted for a 
thousand years. 

The hills of the Black Forest, where arable, were clad 
with the vine, and occasion all}^ surmounted by a picturesque 
ruin, the tower of an old castle belonging to some of the 
numerous old dynasties once reigning and warring in these 
valleys, but long since extinct. Heidelburg has about six- 
teen thousand inhabitants, near three times as many as 
Baden-Baden, though not near so pleasant a place. Baden- 
Baden has numerous promenades under shady, old trees, 
and enjoys a fine, warm climate, and, by consequence, 
great freshness and vigor of the vegetation, which are 

m2 



188 HEIDELBUKG. 

thought to arise from the same causes that produce the six- 
teen hot springs in that town. In these Heidelburg is 
deficient. It is situated on the river Keckar, A^dthin a few 
miles of its entrance into the Khine. Heidelburg possesses 
a great ruin, probably among the most remarkable of the 
remains of the great, dead middle ages. I have been slowly 
over, under, and through this majestic, kingly pile, which 
now bears about the same relation to its past that a mould- 
ering skeleton does to life. It is of immense extent, and 
contains innumerable rooms of all sizes and shapes. It is 
roofless, except in part. Ivy, of two hundred years growth, 
(now in bloom) that lover of, and feeder on, ruin, clings in 
luxuriant profusion around it, drawing its sustenance out 
of the red sandstone rocks of which the castle is built. It 
stands on the slope of a mountain, cut into numerous ter- 
races, planted with rare old trees, and adorned with arbors. 
Above and below the castle extends an old, thick wall, also 
ivy-grown, in which are many secret caverns., and, in some 
parts, concealed fountains, whose cheerful gurgle contrasts 
strangely with the lonesomeness and decay of the present. 
The garden is excellently kept, and mocks, with its annual 
renovation, the grim, hoary ruin which looks down on it, 
and which shall never again resound to the tread of lordly 
knight or lofty dame. Arches and walls, towers and 
statues, bearing dates of the thirteenth and fourteenth cen- 
turies, look at you, eloquent with ruin ; carved images of 
mail-clad heroes stare at you from walls open to the wind 
and rain, and where trees have taken root and flourished. 
It is too old even to be haunted ; and it has nothing to do 
but await the leveler — Time. The day was truly pleasant, 
and over all the ruins rested the soft sunlight. Many per- 
sons were wandering dreamily about the ruins, some sketch- 
ing them with pencil seated in the shade. The French, 
many years ago, bombarded this castle. General Tilley, in 
the Thirty Years' War, reduced it. Its past is renown, its 



HEIDELBUKG. 1^9 

future, decay. Each of these old castles is supposed to have 
a quiet, melancholy, tutelar genius, who inhabits it, and pre- 
serves it from further decay. Many of its walls are sixteen 
feet thick. Winding, narrow roads ascend to it from Hei- 
delburg, from which it is distant about fifteen minutes walk. 
You go up a steep, stone-paved ascent, and soon come to a 
terraced garden with many old pear and other fruit-trees, 
and you enter the castle by what were perhaps formerly 
subterranean passages, passing into large halls, floored with 
pebbles. A lady who lives in, and lets out some rooms in 
the castle to persons ambitious of such a ghostly residence, 
takes you around, unlocks the gates, shows you the way up 
the ruined tower, by dangerous staircases, and gives you the 
names of the various apartments. It is all built of thick, 
massive stones, some of which are cracked by the French 
cannonading. It was struck by lightning about one hun- 
dred years ago, and terribly damaged. In one of the cellars we 
saw the great tun, the lai'gest in the world, still entire, capa- 
ble of containing two hundred and eighty-three thousand 
bottles of wine. It is thirty-six feet long, and twenty-four 
in diameter. By its side stands a dwarfish figure in wood, 
the Count Palatine's jester, who, an inscription states, was 
in the habit of drinking fifteen bottles of wine per diem. 
This was in the days when high revel kept court in these 
lofty halls. From the terrace, a large stone platform, ex- 
tends a most superb view of Heidelburg, its old Cathedral, 
also of red-sandstone, the bridge, the river Neckar, and the 
high mountain on the opposite side of the river, on the top 
of which stands also an old tower, and between which and 
this castle, existed, in old times, a subterraneous communi- 
cation, passing under the town and the river. This must 
have been some five or six miles in length. I was assured 
of this by a student here, who had explored it for some dis- 
tance. It is certain that many of the hills on which these 
old castles stood, had generally strange and remote passages. 



140 FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN. 

known only to the proprietor, by means of which escape 
might be had, and relief obtained, in time of danger. Above 
the tower extends a lofty mountain. Pursuing a path up, 
I reached an eminence on which a Swiss cottage has been 
erected, offering wine and other refreshments, and, at the 
same time, one of the most enchanting prospects in Europe. 
You look out from the narrow valley of the Neckar, and 
the great, level Ehine valley, the river itself, and countless 
villages and cities on its banks, among them Mayence, with 
its towers and spires. Below you is the picturesque ruin, 
and still lower, the old town and the river, and around are 
mountains tower-crowned. It is almost as fine as the view 
on the Eighi, except that there are no snow mountains in 
the landscape. 

Heidelburg has the oldest college in Germany, and there 
are many literary institutions and many students. The 
Eeformation here took root, and excited many contests with 
the Catholics in regard to which party should possess the old 
cathedral. It was at length settled that each should have 
half. The cathedral was then divided by a large partition. 
Protestantism worships at one end ; in the other Cathol- 
icism — the Protestants pitying the ignorance of the Catho- 
lics: the Catholics decreeing that all heretics are damned 
necessarily. On the door of the Catholic church of the city 
Jerome of Prague — afterward burnt for his faith at Coq- 
stance — nailed his defense of Protestantism. What heroes 
Protestantism had when it was young, and fresh, and new, 
and its preachers had for their reward martyrdom and not 
money ! 

We are now off* however, on the railway, for 

FRANKFOET-ON-THE-MAIN. 

We are now in the Ehine valley, which, along our route, 
appears in good cultivation. The peasants are raking the 
hay into rows; some gathering the blushing apples into 



FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN. 141 

bags ; others denuding tlie tobacco stalk of its broad 
leaves. On the right are hills and mountains; which are 
covered with the vine, or where cultivation is inadmissible, 
have a vesture of dark firs, above which rise frequently the 
antique towers, telling of feudal chevaliers' domination — 
some of the views picturesque and striking in their mourn- 
ful decay of ages. Unprogressive village after village is 
passed — for here population is stationary — the old die, the 
young enlist or go off; and perhaps no change takes place 
for centuries, except what is old becomes older, the castles 
grayer, the cathedrals more solemn-looking. But we enter 
the city of Frankfort-on-the Main, thus called to distin- 
guish it from Frankfort-on-the-Oder, in Prussia. It is a 
free city, a small, independent republic, which, with three 
other cities of Germany — Hamburg, Bremen, and Lubec — 
procured, during the middle ages, the privilege of self- 
government. Frankfort has about seventy thousand in- 
habitants ; and some streets have the bustle, life, activity, 
and appearance of some American cities — streets crowded, 
houses large, well-built, and modern-looking. But what 
a change on going into the Jews' Quarter. It looks like an 
antique, oriental town — narrow streets; houses with ends 
on the streets, each story progressing over the other, so as 
almost to arch the street ; so strange with those curious^ 
gables; so old, so crowded with people — and at the same 
time it must be confessed and admitted the scents have an 
indescribable unpleasantness about them, reminding one of 
New Orleans in June, where each precinct is instinct with a 
distinct stink. 

In a public square you see the statue representing 
Goethe, the great, ''all-sided Goethe;" and you are shown 
the house in which he was born. The statue represents 
him as a big-browed, big-headed, big-bodied Dutchman. 
How he came to have such imagination, it would be difficult 
to tell — unless his liver was diseased. He was, however, 



142 FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN. 

sometimes right in his views ; and perhaps his errors have 
been a cause of others getting right. But his influence and 
fame have been improperly great. His was an original 
mind, however ; and his works have been the fruitful 
parents of numerous novels, poems, and those intellectual 
reveries dignified by the name of metaphysics, in which 
some complaisant, good-humored people in England and 
America indulge, when one does not know whether they 
really are wise or are only trying to be foolish. 

Since entering Germany quite a decided difference is dis- 
cernible in many things. The people are slower, surer, 
more steady, and not so volatile as the French. There is 
more honesty, too — more steady, hopeless, hard-working- 
ness. The French are quiet, rather light, but energetic 
when humored with their own way. The Swiss are some- 
v^hat weak and thoughtful, but on the whole rather honest, 
make good watches, are first-rate guides, and fight well too, 
when fairly "in for it." The Germans are dull, grand, and 
serviceable ; the French are quick, ingenious and vicious ; 
the Swiss gentle, affectionate and weak ; the Americans are 
immense at every thing — in their own estimation. 

Of coui-se the computation of money is very different, 
France and Switzerland have the same currency — the prin- 
cipal coins being Napoleons, which are of gold, and worth 
three dollars and eighty cents ; the franc of silver, worth 
nineteen cents, twenty of which of course make a ISTapo- 
leon ; and the centime, worth near two mills or one-fifth of 
a cent, one hundred of which make a franc. The sou is 
of copper, and worth about an American cent. In Germany 
the silver coins are guilders, or florins — both the same 
value ; and kreutzers, sixty of which make a guilder, which 
is worth about forty-two cents ; the kreutzer worth about 
seven or eight mills. French Napoleons are, however, 
taken all over Europe, and the smaller coins of each coun- 
try given in change. 



FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN. 143 

I entered the Stadel Museum, which has very many 
splendid paintings and some fine statuary — plaster casts 
also of originals elsewhere, most of the latter being in an 
undesirable state of nudity for a mixed company to visit. 
The City Hall contains portraits of all the German empe- 
rors, in full length, and in the costume of each period, for 
the last eight hundred years. They look very imposing in 
that dark old hali^ — those shadows coming down to us along 
the corridorS' of time — those shadows now who were form- 
erly actors of the things of history. They were formerly 
crowned in this city, which then was and perhaps now may 
be considered as the capital of Germany — ^the Diet, or 
general Congress to settle the politics of Germany, being still 
held in this city. Frankfort, in territory, is one of the 
smallest states of the Germanic confederation, yet is one 
of the richest cities in the world. The head-quarters of the 
Kothschilds are here. They were born here — and the old 
house, in the Jewish Quarter, with its peaking, projecting 
cornices, in which they were born, and from which their 
mother would never remove, is shown. The population 
of the city is about seventy thousand, of whom ten thousand 
are Jews, whose grotesquely old part of the city is food for 
the gazer for hours. These peculiar, extraordinary people, 
the only example of a preserved nationality in a despised 
people, seem to be waiting, still strong in the one hope of 
the coming man ; which hope itself preserves them, and 
gives them that continuity of purpose and oneness of direc- 
tion that makes them so successful in amassing wealth, 

Germany is an instructive lesson to the United States. 
She could be the strongest power in Europe, if the various 
thirty -five states, of which she consists, were united under a 
central government as ours. They are all independent of 
each other, and a union prevails for political purposes only. 
As they are never really united on any point, and have no 
compelling head, they have no influence in the affairs of 



14i FKANKFORT-ON-THE MAIN. 

Europe. There is no nobility in Frankfort ; 'the Burgo- 
master is the principal person in the state. Some of these 
small German states are able to maintain only six horsemen. 
Nevertheless, each has an independent prince, who rules and 
keeps a court with the attributes of royalty. These families 
that govern are those who yet keep above the sea of Time, 
which has engulfed the proprietors of these numerous feudal 
castles which remain in decay in Germany, the owners of 
which becoming too poor to maintain their dignity, in con- 
sequence of modern changes, enlisted in the Austrian army, 
or in that of neighboring powers, and gradually became 
estranged and extinct, leaving their castles to lapse or 
decay. The soil is now possessed by numerous small pro- 
prietors, who reside in the villages, seldom on their land, 
the villages being chiefly agricultural, seldom a shop, unless 
for retailing tobacco, or cigars, in this part of Germany, 
being found in them. The inhabitants, iu addition to their 
own maintenance, must support the military, who are the 
instruments of the sovereign in keeping them in a state 
of subjection. 

On the 25th of this month there is to be a meeting of the 
Emperors of France and Eussia, at Stuttgard, the capital of 
Wirtemburg, not far from the route over which we have 
gone. Had their majesties consulted our convenience in 
regard to time, we should probably have been present also, 
and assisted their deliberations. One object of the meeting 
is stated to be to agree on a simultaneous reduction in the 
standing army of each state in Europe. This would be 
vastly advantageous to Germany and France both, as large 
armies necessitate the withdrawal of many persons from 
agriculture and other employments, and those who would, 
if they were not in the army, support themselves, are thus 
supported by others. But Europe is over-peopled now, 
and the various kinds of employment are already filled, and 
it would seem as if a standing army were necessary in order 



WIESBADEN. 145 

to take off and kill tlie surplus population. Emigration to 
America is a natural and benevolent necessity. Few of these 
towns increase in population. Thie surplus enlist in the 
armj; or go off to America or other countries, which thus 
become peopled with the most enterprising, energetic, and 
self-improving part of the population, and this country re- 
mains peopled by the old, and those who are wedded to 
"things as they were." Nothing, however, is an unmixed 
good, or unmixed evil. Convulsion and innovation are 
often the cradles of improvement. There will be changes 
effected in the conditions of the peoples of Europe soon. 
Life is too hard for them. To be able merely to make a 
support and have no surplus left ; to make life one long labor, 
to have nothing left for soul or self-improvement, do not 
fill the requirements of an awakening mind. But it will be 
a silent, bloodless change for the better, effected by the 
rulers themselves, especially by the French Emperor, who, 
if events do not hurry him too much, will be the father 
of governmental reform in Europe. Most of the old mon- 
archies of Europe are chained by the precedents of their 
antecedents. He is not ; he uses precedents and antecedents 
to rule others, not himself. He rules people through their 
weaknesses. 

We have at length arrived at 

WIESBADEN, 

one of the best of the German watering-places. It is a clean, 
pretty place, and its appearance prepossessing like Baden- 
Baden. The hotels are all good ; it is a city of hotels ; the 
servants speak a mysterious sort of language intended for 
English, very good French, but their German is still better. 
The names of the hotels are always written in these three 
languages. Strangers are always addressed, in the first 
place, in French. AV'iesbaden has a number of hot springs, 
over which hovers a cloud of steam. It has numerous 
10 N 



146 WIESBADEN. 

avenues, public walks, covered promenades, and about six- 
teen thousand inhabitants. Near it, on one side, are the 
sloping, dark-wooded Taunus mountains. Outside the city 
about three miles, by a beautiful road, are some very old 
ruins, and near them a small, stationary village. These 
ruins, whose proprietors, in former days, perhaps oppressed 
the villagers, are a blessing now to the poor inhabitants. 
English, and Americans go there to survey the ruins; spend 
money — there is generally a cafe and restaurant in an arbor 
erected near, sometimes in one of the old rooms — you drink 
wine there, sip coffee, and your fancy can people the gray, 
grim, ivy-clad walls around you, with whatever scenes you 
please. Large pines have grown around and on the thick walls 
of this castle ; its name is only known inasmuch as it was the 
possession of the Count Sonnenberg, who, according to an 
Englishman present with me, " went out" about eight hun- 
dred years ago. Of course, he also said, the village below 
was "primitive," which is a favorite word with the travel- 
ing English. Of course, he also said, " he had done all 
those villages," meaning he had walked through them and 
stared at every thing. The Grand Duke of Nassau, witbin 
whose territories Wiesbaden is situated, is at present here, 
and we had the honor of looking at him last night at a con- 
cert. He wore no ornaments of any kind ; seemed to be a 
quiet sort of gentleman, who had nothing else to do but to 
be Grand Duke of Nassau all the days of his life, and leave 
a son who could be Grand Duke of Nassau after him, so that 
these people might have some one to govern them. He was 
accompanied by his wife and family — the daughters short 
and stout, and not near so good-looking as may be seen in 
many a Pennsylvania farm-house. There was also a pro- 
digiously bedizened individual, probably general of ten 
horsemen, who procured seats for the ducal family, and 
guarded them generally. The loyally-minded persons pres- 
ent rose at their entrance and exit. 



MAYENCE. 147 

The population of Wiesbaden is about sixteen thousand. 
It has a newer appearance than most European towns. 
There are sixteen hot springs. The water is salt, hot, and 
unpleasant to the taste. It bubbles up from the earth in 
abundance and violence, filling a large reservoir, where it 
is handed out in glasses by pretty girls, free of charge, to 
the drinkers, who drink in silence and disgust, as they walk 
in an extensive, covered avenue or arcade, the roof of which 
is supported by iron columns. Every thing is done to ren- 
der this place attractively beautiful; walks, gardens, gam- 
bling, music, theatres, restaurants, artificial lakes, shops for 
the sale of ingenious articles of workmanship in shells, glass, 
coral, wood, ivory, pictures, etc. The Duke's palace, on a 
hill, is surrounded by tastefully laid-out grounds,, and sur- 
mounted by awkward-looking statues, and around it prome- 
nade his guards with guns. Who wants to hurt the Grand 
Duke of Nassau, and thus endanger the repose- of Europe? 
Not we, certainly ! 

But this clear and pleasant morning we leave Wiesbaden, 
by railway, and, after a little more than an hour, we see 
rising in the air the Cathedral and towers of old 

MAYENCE, ON THE KHINE, 

where we begin oiir trip down the river. We arrive at 
Castel opposite, and cross the Rhine on a bridge of boats, 
the same way that Julius Caesar did two thousand years ago, 
and we are in the ancient city said to have been founded by 
Drusus, in the year A. D. 13. Alongside of the town flows, 
in grand proportions, the noble river. Now 'tis night. How 
grand the view from my window, which looks out on the 
river, mystic, silent; the antique bridge, semicircular, gas- 
lit ; and the nobler stars of God above all ! The wind of 
coming autumn, however, sighs and thrills along the waters. 
To-day we strolled through the town of Mayence. It has 
about fifty thousand inhabitants, and a strong garrison of 



148 MAYENCE. 

live thousand Austrian soldiers, and about the same num- 
ber of Russians, it being on the frontiers of both those 
dominions. The Cathedral is a very noble building. The 
east part is of the architecture of the year 1000, the west 
of the fifteenth century, and has four towers. Its great 
spire; its vast flank; its numerous tombs inside, with their 
long slabs of stone, forming part of the floor, having sculp- 
tured figures of the deceased, and their names and inscrip- 
tions, some in Latin, some in German, half obliterated by the 
tread of the walkers ; the stained- glass windows, through 
which the light comes, shattered into numerous colors, shed- 
ding rainbows on the graves, all these render it an interest- 
ing object. In it are the tombs of Fastrada, the beloved 
wife of Charlemagne, and also of Frauenlob — the woman- 
loved, a sort of poet, or troubadour of the middle ages — who 
was borne to his grave by the women of Mayence. 

There we saw, also, the stone of Drusus, the beloved 
Roman General, an immense assemblage or pile of rude 
masonry, erected, it is said, over his remains. He conquered 
in these parts in the days when the Roman eagle spread far 
and wide over the earth, and built, it is said, fifty castles on 
the Rhine to protect his conquests. In the Museum of this 
town, which I also visited, are many Roman remains : por- 
tions of marble images of Jupiter and Apollo, and other 
ornaments of Pagan temples, which have been found near 
this place. There is here a splendid statue of Guttenberg, 
the inventor of the art of printing, who was born here, 
though the discovery Avas made at Strasbourg. The statue 
is by Thorwaldsen. There are, in this building, some very 
splendid rooms, with fine portraits of dead heroes, this 
palace being the former residence of the Count Palatine, 
The chief attraction of the Museum (many of the paintings 
being rather inferior,) is the astronomical clock. This ex- 
traordinary work of mechanism is by Nicholas Alexias 
Johann, and occupied him seven years. It represents alJ 



THE RHINli:. \ 149 

the planetary bodies then discovered ; all the stars visible to 
the naked eye (more than a thousand); the exact motions 
of the sun and moon as they occur in the firmament, and 
this so exactly as not to vary half a degree in a thousand 
years. The revolutions of all the planets are represented; 
their distance ; size; the revolutions and phases of the moon ; 
days of the month ; motions of the earth ; the synodic, peri- 
odic, anomalistic motions; nodes; in short, it is a kind of 
miniature universe. There is here also the original model 
of a peculiar bridge, which, it is said, Napoleon intended to 
erect over the Rhine, at this place, instead of the present 
one of boats to be sixteen hundred and sixty-six feet in 
length ; but which, with many other objects of utility, were 
not carried into effect in consequence of his numerous wars, 
and eventual downfall. At Mayence are manufactured the 
fine Hockheimer wines, the beet wines the writer has drunk 
in Europe. This city has fine promenades around it, w^hich 
are extremely interesting, on account of the numerous 
towers, churches, and ancient streets one meets with. 

But this night, Thursday, September 24th, my head is 
full of Rhine ruins. This morning, at ten o'clock, Ave 
stepped aboard one of the gracefully-built steamers on this 
river, came as far as Bingen, where we stopped some hours; 
starting at three o'clock, we arrived at Coblentz, where we 
now are, at half-past five, passing through the midst of a 
portion of the scenic, historic, and romantic Rhine. The 
mountain scenery, through which the river flows, would 
almost vie with that of Switzerland, only that cultivation 
has hung over these terraced mountains the clustering vine. 
The castles also, on every rock almost, are strong works 
of taste and grandeur, on which a thousand years have 
wrought a history of w^ar, greatness, and decay ; and fancy, 
after their fall, has peopled them with legendary heroes — 
the gnome, the fairy, ghost or ghoul; and the ivy has 
sought to bind them up again, but in vain. Many of them 

n2 



160 THE EHINE. 

belong to the King of Prus^a, who has partially restored 
some, filling up with new masonry the parts fallen down. 
Some are black with age and neglect, and all are mournful. 
The Rhine has a glory of the present and a dream of the 
past. Thousands yearly go up and down its broad bosom, gaze 
on these scenes, where the beauty of Kature combines with 
the mellow hues of long ago, and receive impressions on, their 
hearts as if they were unfolding the leaves of some strange, 
lost volume of heart history. At Bieberich, just below 
Mayence, is a very beautiful palace in modern style, some- 
what like the western front of the Tuilleries. It is the sum- 
mer residence of the Duke of Nassau, who owns a consider- 
able portion of the right bank of the Rhine in descending. 
Lower down we saw Johannisberg, the celebrated vine-clad 
hill, surmounted by a castle. This was presented to Prince 
Metternich, in 1816, as a reward for his political skill in 
partially bringing about the downfall of Napoleon. Its 
wines are considered the best of all the Rhenish wines, and 
the value of the product is about $40,000 per annum. It is 
an extensive, dome-like hill, the vines growing close up to 
the basement of the castle. The Rhine near this is two 
thousand feet wide. At Bingen, which is a town of about 
five thousand inhabitants, situated at the confluence of an- 
other stream with the Rhine, many old towers and castles 
are visible. Above it, in a beautiful garden, is the Chateau 
of Kloph. To this I ascended — the view of terraced moun- 
tains, the Rhine valley, the ruins, is highly interesting. In 
the middle of the river is the Mouse Tower. The story 
goes, how the lord of these parts was cruel to the poor — 
they were starving, he would sell them no corn though his 
barns were full of it — how when the raojg^ed, starvino^ 
wretches entreated and begged him, he at last told them to 
go into a large, empty barn, and he would supply them. 
How they went, but then their lord commanded all the 
doors to be shut, and fire put to the barn, and they were all 



THE RHINE. 151 

burnt up ; but immediately issued from the ashes a vast 
army of rats, who marched in a straight line to the resi- 
dence of their master. How these rats were the ghosts of 
the poor people. How they entered the lord's house and 
began to devour him alive ; how they got into his bed ; 
crawled down the chimneys; entered every open window; 
and how the wicked lord had to employ all his servants to 
keep the rats off. After ?-a^iocinating awhile, he built a 
tower on an island in the river, to which he retired. How 
the rats swam the stream, and on the lord's raising the win- 
dow, surprised at some noise he heard, a sturdy rat got 
under it, and before assistance could be called, the lord was 
entirely devoured, nothing left but his skull. Thus far is 
this story raii^ed. 

Nearly opposite Bingen is Eudesheim, around which are 
made fine wines, and in it stand several old towers; one of a 
most graceful shape overlooks the river. You want to hear 
the story of Gisela. "Well? How John Bromser went to 
the Holy Land, in the middle ages, to fight the Infidels, and 
was taken prisoner while watching to fight a fearful dragon. 
Whereupon John Bromser made a vow to devote his only 
daughter to a nunnery, if he should escape. How he soon 
after did escape, and returning, attempted to offer up his only 
daughter Gisela. How* she was engaged to a gallant young 
knight, and would not go into a convent, and, agitated 
finally by conflicting emotions, lost her reason, leaped from 
the castle into the river — and how her ghost, thin as a 
moonbeam, and pale as a mountain-mist, still haunts the 
scene. Take pity maidens for, and take warning, fathers, 
by the fate of Gisela. Below Eudesheim is the Niederwald, 
a terraced mountain, and on it, near the river, is the singu- 
lar-looking ruin Ehrenfels, and on the opposite side, the 
irregular and picturesque castle Eheinstein. The beautiful 
little village of Assmanshausen, celebrated for the fine red 
vines growing on the hills above, is just below Bingen. 



152 THE RHINE. 

Below Bingen these picturesque remains of the old, iron 
times, when princely robbers dwelt in them, become more 
numerous. The slopes of the mountains are covered with 
the vine, w^herever vegetation is possible. Walls are built 
to render the ground supported by them more level. In 
some steep places, I noticed at least twenty terraces, built 
up the steep ascent of the mountain, one over the other, 
presenting the appearance of a giant staircase. 

The villages close to the river are as numerous as the 
castles above them. We passed Lorch, behind which is the 
Weisser Thai — the Whispering Yale — whence a wind issues, 
a singular phenomenon, and goes on till it reaches Bingen. 
Then we come to the Seven Sisters — seven rocks in the 
Ehine. The tradition is, that there were seven beautiful 
countesses, who dwelt in the Castle of Schoneberg; they 
were surrounded by lovers, who long submitted to their 
tyranny and caprice, but at length determined to force 
them to choose husbands among them. The girls agreed to 
have it decided by lot ; and on the day appointed they fell 
to the seven ugliest cavaliers, who afterward coming to 
claim them, found only their pictures, but heard a loud 
laughing in a boat on the river, where they saw the seven 
faithless ladies, who had again deceived them. Whereupon 
the god of the river, thinking it a fine opening to punish 
coquetry, metamorphosed them into seven rocks. Coquets, 
beware! It means, if you keep on refusing, your hearts 
are turned to stone! At Lorely, the scenery of the Rhine is 
most grand. Black rocks rise to a great height, almost per- 
pendicular, and the river rushes on like a water storm. 
Above, on the rocks, dwelt, in old times, the beautiful 
water-spirit. Lore — to hear whose song omened impending 
destruction. Ages have gone, however, since she disap- 
peared. The son of the great Palatine of the Rhine was 
bathing in the river. She saw him, and was about to sing 
uhe fatal song which would lure him to destruction, when a 



THE KHINE. 153 

new and unknown sensation seized her. She fell in love 
with him ; and then for a long time she disappeared from 
the heights; and it was conjectured she had sought the 
banks of the distant Danube. But in the mean time the 
young count progressed wonderfully in all his under- 
takings, hunting, fishing, &c. Unseen hands seemed to 
carry him over stony fissures over which no huntsman 
would ever venture ; his arrows overtook the eagle in its 
flight. But at length, climbing up a rugged precipice, 
he saw the beautiful water-sprite. As he was about to 
approach her he thought of Lore, crossed himself, and drew 
back. Afterward nothing could divert his mind from the 
beautiful vision. Mysterious musical sounds haunted him, 
and seemed to allure him to the rocks. At lengthy in com- 
pany with his preceptor, who in vain attempted to dissuade 
him, he approached the rocks. Lore appeared in her daz- 
zling beauty ; both together leaped into the waves ; since 
which time neither has been seen. The line of the Palatine 
became extinct, the castle a ruin, and Lore has no more 
been seen on the cliffs. There is on the rocks, however, 
an echo wbich repeats a word five times. Further down 
we came to two lofty and singular-looking ruins on two 
very high rocks, separated by a vast chasm. They are the 
Brothers. They look story -full. The names of the castles 
are Sternfels and Liebenstein ; and many centuries past they 
belonged to the noble Count Bezer Von Boppart, who 
adopted and brought up with his two sons, Heinrich and 
Conrad, a relative, a beautiful young girl, an orphan con- 
nected with the noble house of Eudesheim. Both the 
young men, of course, fell in love with their cousin; but 
Heinrich, the elder, perceiving that she preferred his younger 
brother, nobly waived all claim, went off to Palestine, and 
achieved great renown by fighting against the Turks; 
which his younger brother hearing, became inflamed with 
love of glory and the tears of his betrothed and commands 



154 THE RHINE. 

of his father having proved unavailing, he was soon on his 
way to Palestine. His father soon after died; and his 
affianced spent many days in grief and solitude. The elder 
brother returned, and after some time the younger also, but 
accompanied with a Grrecian bride, whom he had wooed and 
won at Constantinople. Thereupon the elder brother sent 
him a challenge ; but, as they stood face to face, about to 
imbrue their hands in each other's blood, a white veiled 
figure rushed between — their cousin Hildebrande — who, by 
frantic expostulations, adjured them to stop. She retired 
then to the Convent of Marienburg, and was never after- 
ward seen or heard of in the world. The brothers, residing 
in the opposite castles, held no intercourse; but, after a year 
had passed, the younger brother appeared suddenly before 
Heinrich, pale and in deep grief His Eastern bride had 
fled with his false friend — a young knight. Thereafter he 
never crossed the threshold of his castle ; and over both of 
them the gray hand of ruin now lies heavily — and their 
ruined, venerable towers are-prostrated. The two brothers — 
the last of their race — spent their days in lamenting the fate 
of Hildebrande. The whole scene along here is a panorama 
of ruin. Boppard, lower down, is a town founded by 
Drusus, about the time of the birth of Christ. 

Coblentz, where we now are, is a pleasant town, with 
about twenty-five thousand inhabitants. It has a very sin- 
gular bridge of boats, connecting it with the strong fortress 
of Ehrenbreitstein, on a mountain opposite, which is a very 
large and picturesque-looking fortification. This city is the 
capital of the King of Prussia's Ehenish provinces. There 
are many soldiers here — the fortress having four thousand 
soldiers. The city is situated at the junction of the Moselle 
with the Khine: whence its name, Coblentz — the German 
of the Latin confluentes. I visited the old church near the 
junction of the two rivers — Church of St. Castel — built 
about the year A. D. 836, where the sons of Charlemagne 



THE EHINE. 155 

met to divide his great empire into Grermany, France, and 
Italy. It bears the marks of extreme age. In front of it 
stands a monument erected by the French as they passed 
through the city on their way to Eussia in 1812 ; on which 
they carved these words, in French : " The year 1812, 
memorable by the invasion of Russia." A Eussian general, 
in 1814, placed underneath the French inscription: "Seen 
and approved by the Eussian commander of the city 
of Coblentz." The old bridge over the Moselle is a 
very peculiar old bridge of stone, in the Eoman style. 
That over the Ehine is of boats. We crossed the latter, 
and, having procured a written ticket of admission, as- 
cended to the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein. It stands on a 
perpendicular rock, four hundred and eighty feet above the 
river, by which, as well as by its numerous walls and de- 
fenses, and its four hundred cannon, and its garrison of six- 
teen hundred men, it is rendered very strong. We saw 
some of the cannon taken from the French at AVaterloo, on 
which are indented the marks of many a ball. It is said 
the fortress could sustain a siege of ten years, and would 
contain ten thousand soldiers. The view from the top of the 
fort embraces a most lovely prospect — the town of Coblentz, 
in front ; the Eiver and Yalley of the Moselle ; old castles 
on the Ehine ; four or five forts around Coblentz ; numer- 
ous villages, and distant mountains, clad with the vine, and 
the great sunny river laving their base. The view is truly 
superb. The road up to the castle winds around the enor- 
mous rock. Coblentz, as well as man}^ others of these 
towns, has manufactories of watches, jewelry, linen, glass, 
snuff; also trades in wines, tobacco-pipes, millstones for 
making cement. The latter is sent to Holland, to be used 
in the construction of hydraulic works, dykes, &;c. 

We left Coblentz to day, at twelve o'clock, by steamer 
for Cologne, and passed through the long gallery of ancient 
ruins, obsolete towns, and castle-crowned hills — its fine. 



156 THE KHINE. 

grand, and old scenery, on which the eye loves to gaze, and 
the heart to dream. Yery many of the mountains below 
Coblentz appear cut into steps or terraces, supported by 
walls, forming small plats of ground, planted with the vine. 
The crop this year is excellent ; no season having been so 
favorable for many years. Old churches ; others recently 
restored; convents, monasteries in ruins; towers; cities 
with high walls, crumbling into decay — some built by the 
Eomans — look down on you as you continue your course 
on the silent, mysterious river. Each had a history of 
humanity, passions, aftections — the diversified drama of 
life went on in them and was no more. Doubtless in the 
olden time these castles were the seats of robber- chieftains, 
waging war against each other; robbing vessels on the 
Khine ; making prisoners taken in war perform vast labors ; 
excavating subterraneous apartments under churches, by 
means of which they could arrange artificial machinery for 
the appearance of assumed spectres — employing all agencies 
and instruments to accomplish their ends. Further down, 
the Seven Mountains came into view. We landed at Kon- 
igswinter, intending to make the ascent of the Drachenfels, 
one of the Seven. We procured a guide — one who stated 
he had acted as guide to the Prince of Wales, who had 
spent, during the summer, seven weeks in this village, 
making the ascent of the mountain every day. The " Cas- 
tled Crag of Drachenfels," being ten hundred and fifty-five 
feet above the river, can be seen for a long distance. Its 
height above the sea is fourteen hundred feet. Our path at 
first wound among vine fields of the red and white grape ; 
but, rising higher, these ceased, and we came to extensive 
stone quarries, furnishing the stone used in building the 
Cathedral of Cologne. Peasant girls met us, offering pretty 
blue flowers. At length we stood on the top, among the 
black and grim walls. The view is immense, almost bound- 
less in its beaut}^ It is regarded as the finest on the Rhine. 



THE RHINE. 157 

§ 

The winding river, for many miles; tlie gray, picturesque 
ruin of Godesburg on a singular conical hill in the Ehine 
Valley opposite; many fields of vines on the hill- slopes- 
fields of wheat, oats, kc, in the valley, and the towers and 
spires of Cologne and Bonn ; while around on the summits 
of the six other mountains — on several of which may be 
seen through the trees some remnants of the castle-age of 
the Rhine. Around are the thick walls of the Dragon 
Castle — its prisons — its one tall tower. The history has all 
perished ; and nothing is known except that for ages it has 
frowned over the Ehine Valley, like a vast mountain tooth. 
A tradition, however, reports that in old Pagan times a fearful 
dragon dwelt in a cave here, to which human victims were 
sacrificed. He was the deity to the surrounding heathens, 
who waged incessant war with the inhabitants of the Asso- 
nate Valley, who had embraced Christianity; and in the 
course of one of their excursions they took prisoner a beau- 
tiful Christian girl, whose loveliness inflamed the hearts 
of two of the most powerful of the heathen chiefs — they 
waging a war of extermination against each other for the 
possession of her hand. She, however, heeded neither. At 
length the Ancients among them stated the gods had forbid- 
den this unnatural contest, and that the beautiful virgin 
must be decreed to the dragon ; that the next day, at early 
dawn, he claimed his prey : and from their decision there was 
no appeal. She was led the next morning to the rock over- 
hanging the dragon's noisome den, and there secured. The 
dragon awoke at sunrise, and advanced Avith flaming eyes 
to seize his victim — when she drew from her bosom the 
cross, the emblem of her faith; upon which the monster 
recoiled with awe, and, uttering a fearful roar, sprang head- 
long over the rocks into the flood, whose waters closed on 
him forever. The Pagan multitude were awe-struck. But 
Kinbad, the noblest of her lovers, bounded forward, and 
threw himself at her feet, acknowledging himself a Chris- 



168 COLOGNE. 

tian. The people followed his example ; and, ere long, the 
tumult of war was hushed, and Christianity prevailed 
among all the inhabitants of the Seven Mountains. Kinbad 
married the fair virgin, and built the castle on the summit 
of the mountain, where they lived long and happily. There 
is, near the summit, at present, a modern monument, 
erected to the King of Prussia. We now descended the 
winding but excellent road to the village; drank a bottle of 
the fine wine of this region, (the Steinberger is the best,) 
in the hotel overlooking the Rhine ; then crossed the Rhine 
in a ferry boat to the village of Mehlen, where we took pas- 
sage in the cars to Cologne, having passed over the most 
interesting portions of the river, the portion above Ma- 
yence and below Cologne being but little attractive. 

This morning, September 26th, we hired a guide to ex- 
plore the city of 

COLOGNE, 

the oldest town on the Rhine, having been founded by the 
Romans. The guide conducted us first to the great Cathe- 
dral, a perfect wilderness of beautiful Gothic German tow- 
ers, there being five thousand small towers around it ; and, 
when finished, there will be one immense central tower, 
rising five hundred and thirty feet high. In the inside there 
are one hundred lofty, large Gothic columns; and the whole 
edifice will be, when finished, a creation of the marvellously 
beautiful. It reminds one of some fairy creation of frost- 
work, so light, perfect^ and correct does the whole appear. 
We heard the great organ, rumbling its ancient music among 
the numerous Gothic pillars. The mus-ic here is celebrated 
throughout Europe. We entered the " Chapel of the Three 
Kings," and saw their skulls and remains, which are kept 
in coffins blazing with gold and gems ; and are supposed 
to be endowed with miraculous powers. These are the 
" Three Wise Men of the East," which, by a Catholic legend, 



COLOGNE. 159 

are transformed into three kings, and they assert these are 
their veritable remains. The inhabitants here are great on 
Eau-de-Cologne and bones. We also saw — paying therefor 
a small consideration to the sexton — the treasury, a collec- 
tion of splendid silver and gold crosses, historical and 
sacred, presents from various popes and kings, and used by 
various saints. This cathedral was begun in 1249, six 
hundred years ago, and is only half completed. The mid- 
dle ages have passed away since then; the Reformation 
inaugurated and grown old; America discovered, and our 
young, new empire arisen. The King of Prussia gives an- 
nually forty thousand dollars to aid in its work. The peo- 
ple of Cologne raise about the same amount. From this we 
went to the ancient Church of St. Ursula, where in some of 
the chapels we were admitted to a view of the skulls of no 
less than eleven thousand virgins ; and also that of St. 
Ursula herself. The skulls are in glass cases, on shelves, 
around the walls, and lie on tables under glass covers. 
There are many of them beautifully ornamented with 
needle-work, corals, beads, &c., by the nuns. The other 
bones of the bodies are also exhibited ; and we were shown 
the skull of St. James the Apostle. These objects are all 
held in the most devout reverence. The eleven thousand 
virgin story is very romantic. How that in the year A. D. 
274 they made a pilgrimage to Rome, were baptized, and, 
on their return here, the Huns, having taken possession of 
the city, massacred them all, for two reasons : first, they 
would not abjure Christianity; and secondly, they would 
not marry the aforesaid Huns ; and how their bones were 
all found on the spot where this church was afterward built, 
and miraculously distinguished, and are now placed on the 
walls of the church for the edification of the '' faithful," on 
their paying one franc. I asked the guide whether they 
had not a small bottleful of Egyptian darkness bottled 
up — it being for exhibition in some of these old cities. 



160 COLOGNE. 

These things, to Protestant enlightenment; may seem ridic- 
ulous; yet there is a study of the workings and attach- 
ments of human nature connected with all these things 
which is interesting; and he is too grand a man for the 
world who looks with utter contempt on beautiful error, 
when the intellect and the heart have clothed it with storied 
legend, and the lapse of years has given to venerable delu- 
sion the mellow sadness of a thousand associations. Naked, 
cold, undiluted truth, is unlovely, and is not the order of 
this world either in nature or religion. There must be 
something human about it in order to attract regard. 
Angels may be very admirable things; but the instinct of 
the human heart is to prefer something that it can invest 
with something of its own feelings and frailties. Why 
should not those nations that have a past render it profita- 
ble ? What is the propriety of applying mathematical de- 
monstration to a tradition ? The legend exists for the sake 
of the legendary-inclined, and it has its own loveliness. 
The whole man is not reason ; the whole tree is not fruit — 
it has its leaves and flowers. If people have a taste for 
bones; if their devotion is increased by a relic, it shows 
their personal attachment to and their credence in the 
person and principles connected therewith. Beligion is a 
creation of the Deity ; but the mind of man is also a creation 
of the same divine power, and the two modify each other. 
Protestantism has never flourished among southern nations, 
nor Catholicism in northern ones ; and where a form of it, 
as in Russia, prevails, it is divested of its imagery. Southern 
nations invest religion with a drama, a drapery of its ideas, 
which is Catholicism. It is not so learned, but is more 
affecting and effecting. We also saw in the Church of 
St. Peter — what was really worth seeing — the original 
painting by Rubens, a native of this city, of the Crucifixion 
of St. Peter with his head downward — a great work by a 
great master. The scene is so life-like that it haunts you 



COLOGNE. 161 

afterward, as a view of the reality would have done. The 
expression in the face of Peter is lofty and heroic, but 
unimpassioned fortitude; a grand old man, suffering and 
enduring with hope and without hate. This painting is 
about two hundred and fifty years old. Kubens was born 
in this city in 1677. Our guide would now have taken us 
to the Church of St. Gereon, where are the skulls of the six 
thousand Christian soldierS; massacred at St. Maurice, in 
Switzerland, by command of the Roman emperor, because 
they would not sacrifice to Jupiter. We declined; how- 
ever, having had enough of bones for one session in the 
sepulchrally, ancient -looking Church of St. Ursula. Here, 
however, we saw a genuine Roman tower in the heart of 
the city ; the upper part all fallen down, but the lower yet 
strong. It is constructed of small stones, forming circles 
and other figures. And near it is a portion of the original 
wall of the city ; all of it as hard as one solid rock. A man 
is at work on the mortar with a pickaxe, cutting down the 
work that has stood and solidified for two thousand years. 
The term Cologne is derived from the Latin colonia — this 
having been a Roman colony. Kotwithstanding it produces 
the most celebrated of perfumes, it is supposed to be the 
most offensive town in Germany to the olfactory arrange- 
ments. It is said the Rhine washes it. Whereupon one 
wishes to know 

" What power divine 
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?" 

Coleridge asserts he counted three hundred and sixty-two 
distinct abominable scents in its streets. But here we bid 
adieu to the Rhine— 

" Adieu to thee again, a vain adieu, 
There can be no farewell to a scene like thine." 

11 2 



162 BRUSSELS. 

We leave on tlie railway for 

BRUSSELS, 

passing first through a level and admirably cultivated por- 
tion of the Rhine valley, with occasionally an old German 
or Gothic castle telling its own tale of ruin ; then we arrive 
at a mountain region, where are iron foundries and where 
coal is extracted. We pass through the old cities of Aix- 
la-Chapelle, where the Emperor Charlemagne is buried, and 
Liege. We go through more than twenty tunnels in all, 
and numerous deep cuttings ; we enter the flat regions 
of Belgium, the battle-field of Europe ; our passports and 
luggage are examined and restored to us ; and after one 
hundred and fifty miles of slow, careful, continental railway- 
ing, we arrive at the pleasant, clean, and beautiful city of 
Brussels, capital of the kingdom of Belgium, looking like 
Paris, but in general cleaner and more airy. We seem to 
have left behind the old ruined castles and mouldering 
cities of Germany and the Rhine, and to be getting into the 
West of Europe, where mankind are more progressive. It 
is pleasant, at times, to decline from the stern present and 
wander dreamily among ruins — ourself a ruin. It is plea- 
sant to let memory repeople the past, and in old, strange- 
looking cities, or hoary cathedrals, or among ruined castles 
on the Rhine, surrender the heart to its dreamings. But 
life is effort, motion, and the present is as good as any past 
and even better. The past has had its day, its action, and 
it should be buried. Countries like France, Ensrland, or 
America, that are active in the present, will leave a mighty 
past behind ; but those countries, as Italy, Greece, or those 
individuals who dream too much over the past, will leave 
no past. 

Brussels is a sort of miniature Paris. We have been here 
for several days. As a place of residence, it is probably prefer- 
able to any other city on the continent. Every thing is French 



BRUSSELS. 163 

again ; the harsh German, with its black letters, is gone. 
The society here is polished, elegant, refined, and enjoyable; 
the wit, elegance, and agreeableness of Paris without the 
expense. The hotels are good. The one we stopped at, 
Hotel Bellevue, Place Royale, is deserving its recommenda- 
tions. The city consists of two portions, the upper and 
lower towns : the upper contains the most beautiful streets, 
the park, the king's palace, the best hotels, the Place 
Eoyale; the lower contains the fine ancient churches, an- 
tique buildings, Hotel de Yille^ narrow old streets, and has 
the general appearance of an old Flemish town. Much 
French is spoken in the upper town. The government is 
one of the progressive monarchies of Europe, diluted with a 
portion of the popular element. There are, indeed, but few 
of the governments of Europe that do not listen occasion- 
ally to that small, still undertone, but mighty voice of the 
people at times. The best government is that which is the 
best administered. But I hear a flourish of trumpets, mili- 
tary music, etc., and behold, there rides out in a splendid 
coach drawn by four black horses, the Duke of Brabant, 
heir of the king, with his wife. Her bosom is blazing with 
diamonds. He looks like a well-to-do, shallow young man, 
with practical sense enough to get along with a career started 
for him, and satisfied with ''letting well enough alone," 
though not remarkably gifted. He has the royal air of 
seeming deep, but is only deceptions, but is not wise 
enough to be bad. Brussels has, in its centre, a fine park, 
surrounded by a high iron railing, and admirably laid out 
in walks planted with fine old elm-trees, and adorned with 
beautiful fountains coquetting with rainbows when the sun 
shines. Here are also many statues; and in the evening- 
there is military music, and it is pleasant to walk on the 
smooth gravel-walks amidst these surroundings. We visited 
the old cathedral church of St. Gudule, containing the most 
richly -painted glass window in Europe, almost a glory to 



164 WATERLOO. 

look at it,, as the dim, shivered light comes through it ; also 
there is a very splendidly-carved pulpit of wood, the carv- 
ing of which is admirable, representing the expulsion of 
Adam and Eve — all in wood, and wondrous ; there are also 
old graves and monuments. We also visited the MuseuDi, 
which contains a great number of very interesting paintings, 
chiefly modern, but no great works. There is a splendid 
statue of Godfrey of Bouillon, the great crusader and first 
king of Jerusalem, representing him in the mailed costume 
of the middle ages and mounted on horseback. Brussels 
has extensive manufactories of lace, teeth, and also numer- 
ous publishing-houses. It has, in imitation of Paris, fine 
Boulevards extending around the city, planted with trees, 
and occupying the place of the old fortifications. It has also 
fine botanic and zoological gardens. The king is at present 
absent in Germany. The population of Brussels is about 
one hundred and fifty thousand. 

THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 

To-day we have been over the celebrated battle-ground 
of Waterloo, where Napoleon entered on and went down in 
his last dreadful battle, and where the Duke of Wellington 
won a victory to his own astonishment. The distance is 
about twelve miles from Brussels. Coaches, with four 
horses each, leave Brussels several times a day, during the 
summer, for the battle-field. The charge is seven francs, 
including the carriage-service around the field of battle, and 
the fee to the guide. The road is paved the whole distance 
(and probably all the way to Paris, distant one hundred 
and fifty miles), and passes through a beautiful, undu- 
lating country, with numerous avenues of elms and pop- 
lars, and occasionally small, brick, villages. The country 
looks like a garden — on the left you have the Forest of 
Soignes. At length you enter the small village of Waterloo, 
and, further on, that of Mont St. Jean, and you are in the 



WATERLOO. 165 

rear of the ground occupied by the Allied Army, and the 
coachman shows you the brick building where were the 
Duke of Wellington's head-quarters. But a gray-headed 
and gray -bearded man, with erect step and military cap, 
comes out of one of the houses. This is Sergeant Munday, 
the only guide who was actually in the battle, and he will 
fight it over again for your instruction. He was three 
times w^ounded, and lay all night in an unconscious state, on 
the field of battle. He shows his scars. He is a thorough 
British soldier, but probably impartial, and his accounts 
seem a verisimilitude of fact. Here we are on the field 
of battle then. It is a beautiful and well-cultivated region, 
of slight undulations, long depressions and elevations, and 
about midway between hill and prairie. 

The Belgian is sowing wheat there. Some are plowing, 
some harrowing; women are spreadiug manure; there are 
green hedges, a few rows of young trees, a few clusters of 
woods, one or two farm-houses, some few monuments to 
mark where some distinguished English officers fell ; a very 
large artificial elevation, two hundred and forty feet high, 
on the summit of which is a statue of the Belgic Lion — the 
elevation being very much like a large Indian mound in an 
American forest. And this is "Waterloo now, where Lord 
Wellington, knowing it would be glory for him to come in 
contact with Napoleon, either for defeat or victory, stood on 
the defensive, with the view of protecting Brussels behind 
him, and met the attack of one whose star went out here, 
because it is not given to man to be successful beyond a 
certain point, and because other destinies were waiting to 
have scope. The guide now shows us where the British line 
was placed, and where the artillery were stationed ; and 
where the French were, and where the Prussians came up, 
on the British left (of course, on the French right), and 
shows how Napoleon was obliged to extend his line of battle 
to meet the Prussians, thereby withdrawing troops from, and 



166 WATERLOO. 

weakening his centre. And then he says he wishes to cor- 
rect an impression, which some have, "that the Prussians 
were of no use to them." He says, impressively, ^'they 
were of use," and that " he is the last man on earth to de- 
tract from the French, for no troops ever fought more 
bravely." The Duke had most clear 1}^ the advantage of 
position — having selected his own ground ; and he had 
previously been heard to say, that if he ever met the French, 
he would like to meet them here. The French, being the 
attacking party, were thus obliged to yield great advantages 
of locality ; and the English infantry, when obliged to re- 
treat, could occupy a position in a hollow, which the Duke 
called his "friendly hollow way," while his artillery fired 
over their heads, at the pursuing French. This battle has 
been so often described, and the British have so repeatedly 
won the battle on paper, that it would seem consummate 
folly to say any thing further about it; their writers having 
every thing their own way, Britain has covered herself with 
glory in consequence. But how the Briiish could have won 
the battle does not clearly appear, since they admit having 
only twenty-three thousand British soldiers on the field, the 
rest of the Duke's army being composed of continental 
troops, who, according to the guide's declaration, corrobo- 
rated -by Lord Wellington's dispatches, were running away 
every half hour. That the British troops behaved with 
most admirable and indomitable bravery, there can be no 
doubt. In the history of the world, there never were 
braver troops at defense than the British, except the 
Eomans; the French are best at an attack; Americans are 
best at a tremendous, exciting charge, or onslaught. It is 
said, during the battle the brave conduct of the British 
troops frequently extorted the involuntary approbation of 
the Emperor, who knew what bravery was, and who knew 
that it was requisite to sustain the terrible attacks he 
ordered. The guide declared in answer to a question, that 



WATEELOO. 167 

up to half-past four o'clock Lord Wellington's whole army 
seemed in process toward an irretrievable and appalling 
overthrow ; that the French army had advanced, the En- 
glish fallen back, and he showed us Napoleon's three posi- 
tions, or head-quarters ; first, when the battle began, which 
was at nine o'clock ; secondly, about two in the afternoon, 
nearly a mile in front of the former ; thirdly, a half a mile 
or more, nearer the British ranks. At half-past four o'clock 
Bulow, with thirty thousand men, the advanced corps of 
Prince Blucher's army, made his appearance on the French 
right, and began to plow the ground with cannon. This 
division of the Prussians was repulsed, and obliged to fly 
into the woods, by a detachment sent against them ; and at 
the same time. Napoleon extended the French line so as to 
embrace their operations, thus weakening his centre — it be- 
ing his object to make the old Imperial Guard to advance 
there. Yet, the arrival of the Prussians had the same effect 
on the English army, as if, according to the words of the 
guide, each man had received a ''stiff glass of grog." The 
Duke, at this time, had all his reserves in action. But up 
to this time, the reserve of the Emperor had not drawn a 
trigger, and were fresh and impatient as pawing steeds. 
This shows where the advantage was at this time, and jus- 
tifies the declaration which it is said burst from Napoleon, 
that despite the whole Prussian army and Lord Wellington 
united, he had sixty chances in his favor to thirty against 
him. The Old Guard never had been beaten, and wherever 
and whenever they moved in battle, had carried irresistible 
victory. Napoleon caused them to pass before him, 
harangued them coolly in the moment of battle, in a small 
hollow, told them they carried the Empire with them, and 
would have led the charge himself but for the vehenient 
dissuasions of Ney. This unconquerable body of men — 
the Old Guard — advanced to the long eminence on which 
the British line was placed, when the sudden apparition 



\168 . WATEKLOO. 

of an armed body of men, rising apparently out of the 
.ground, where tliey had hitherto seen nothing, threw them 
into a panic, and was the true cause of Napoleon's losing 
the battle. It is true they partially recovered, fought 
bravely, and even made an impression on the British line^ 
and nearly all perished in battle ; but their useless heroic 
bravery was wasted in individual effort and disorganized 
attack. The guide showed us where the charge was made, 
and where the Duke ordered his men to lie down flat on 
the ground, and thus, concealed by the eminence and smoke 
of battle, await their coming. As to the Duke's giving the 
celebrated order, " Up guards, and at them !" in those precise 
unmilitary words, the guide manifested considerable in- 
credulity. A successful attack at this point would doubt- 
less have retrieved, as Napoleon intended it should, the 
discouragement resulting from the arrival of the Prussians. 
The Old Guard died on the place where they made their 
first error ; and having gained most of Napoleon's battles 
by attacking in the crisis, they now lost him his most im- 
portant one. They died with the Empire they established. 
''The Old Guard die, but surrender never!" was their reply 
to Lord Wellington's almost entreaty to surrender. One of 
their number, in revisiting the scene in years afterward, 
stated to the guide that the sudden appearance of the En- 
glish affected them as if they had been supernatural phan- 
toms. Yet the glory of the Old Guard was full. From the 
lips of the Emperor was never heard a syllable of blame. 
They disappeared from among men ; but often, in countries 
far remote, would sit down, and with flashing eye and heav- 
ing bosom, tell of the deeds of him so long a captive at St. 
Helena, till only death freed him. Murat asserted the 
result of Waterloo would have been different, had he com- 
manded the Old Guard. The guide now showed us the 
road, up and down which the Duke rode all day, under fire 
all the time of the French artillery. That part of the 



WATERLOO. 169 

ground, however, has been greatly changed, in conseqnence 
of the soil having been carried to erect the great mound on 
the field of battle, which is surmounted by the Belgic Lion. 
There is, near this, a Waterloo Museum, consisting of 
numerous swords, pistols, cannon balls, coats, and many 
other things found on the field of battle— some belonging 
to Napoleon. These are for inspection, but not for sale. 
The guide now led us along the British right, where we 
crossed a depression in the ground, and entered the orchard 
and gardens of Hogoumont, the possession of which was of 
the most vital advantage to the Duke. It consists of an 
ancient brick castle, built more than two hundred years 
ago ; its garden is surrounded by a strong brick wall, in 
which the Duke caused holes to be made for the muskets, 
his men being protected by the walls. This Avas a strong 
position. On account of a forest being in front of the wall, 
the French were not able to bring their artillery to play 
against it. The guide asserted that here the French fought 
most bravely. They rushed up to the port-holes, and 
attempted to pull the muskets of the British out of their 
hands, through the holes ; and the marks of balls every- 
where on the walls attested the murderous nature of the 
conflict. The disputed possession of these grounds was the 
only real advantage the Duke had, up to the time of the 
arrival of the Prussians. The French at one time got pos- 
session of the chateau, and set it on fire, though part of it 
had served as a hospital for many wounded persons, whose 
shrieks ascended above the roar of the battle ; a chapel 
adjoining was also on fire, and we saw a crucifix with the 
lower part burnt off. Near this were several black marble 
monuments, erected to the memory of some who wished to 
be buried near the place they had so well defended — among 
whom was Major Cotton, the brother-in-law of the guide. 
But for the strength of this position, it is probable the bat- 
tle would have been terminated before the arrival of the 



170 WATERLOO. 

Prussians. Its possession would have enabled Napoleon to 
outflank the English. The English, even when partially 
dislodged from it, could retire into an adjacent valley, and 
permit their artillery to fire over their heads. Here then, 
on this field, went down the Empire of the first Napoleon. 
The dynasty and the man were conquered for forty years, 
and he was caged and starved in St. Helena. But though 
a troop overcame him then and there, he has overcome them 
at the last. The Duke of Wellington led a life afterward of 
glorious ease and inaction, and finally died, leaving no 
results of policy or government behind him — nothing but 
the reputation of a brave, skillful, and fortunate General, 
and a doubtful victory at Waterloo. Napoleon died, assas- 
sinated by a climate in a hot, unhealthy island, and left re- 
sults — a dynasty and its ideas — that now rule more potently 
than if he had conquered on this ground. The man and 
the army were conquered, but the dynasty has arisen out of 
their ruin, greater than if the Napoleonic destiny were 
littered out by the descendant of the Hapsburghs. The old 
Napoleon abused and exhausted his destiny. So confident 
was he of success in this battle, that he never ordered 
Marshal Grouchy to meet him, because he judged it unne- 
cessary. The guide stated that the Emperor's force con- 
sisted of seventy-one thousand men, all veterans, and near 
three hundred pieces of cannon — a force amply sufficient, in 
Napoleon's estimation, to beat Lord Wellington's ninety 
thousand. All he required Grouchy to do, was to keep 
Blucher beaten — Napoleon having defeated him on the 16th. 
To Grouchy was assigned the hard task of following 
Blucher (the old devil, as Napoleon called him), who was 
probably, after the Emperor, the first General of the age. 
Napoleon had accomplished two of his three principal ob- 
jects — to get between the Prussian and English armies, 
and to beat the former. It appears there was an under- 
standing between Wellington and Blucher, that the latter 



ANTWERP. 171 

was to be on tlie ground at two o'clock. Having out-gen- 
eraled Grouchy, he was, however, kept back by the badness 
of the roads till half-past four. Napoleon had no time for 
maneuvering in this battle, nor did he attempt any. But 
adieu to Waterloo, and all its beggar bullet-venders. We 
return through the old Belgic villages, the ragged, cheerful 
beggar boys of which, as the coach passes, perform all 
kinds of upturnings, and evolutions, and exposures, for a 
sou, and thus passes the glory of the world. The battle 
of Waterloo was fought on Sunday, the 18th of June, 
1815. 

But this pleasant morning we leave Brussels, the cars 
flitting rapidly through green, unenclosed, level fields, cul- 
tivated to their utmost power; villages with spires of 
churches mounting high in air ; here are also small stone or 
brick towers, around which fly the great and singular-look- 
ing windmills, the motive-power to raise water or grind 
wheat, in this level country. We are in 

ANTWERP, 

the old, Flemish, declining town on the Scheldt, once with 
two hundred thousand inhabitants, now about ninety thou- 
sand, celebrated for its fine docks and fortifications, con- 
structed when it was an appanage of the Napoleonic empire, 
he intending to make it the rival in commerce of London, 
to which we expect soon to embark. But first a walk of a 
few hours through this old town of the fifteenth century. 
Here our guide shows us one of the gloomy, ugly-looking 
prison convents of the Jesuits ; here are the inquisition- 
rooms, with the iron collars on the walls, that were thrust 
around the necks of the unfortunates ; here are also the beds 
on which they were stretched and tortured. Things are 
changed now. Belgium is a Catholic kingdom, but in no 
place in Europe is there to be found the Catholicism we 
read about in the middle ages. What singular, old-looking, 



172 ANTWERP. 

Flemish houses these are, with the ends toward the streets, 
tapering upward toward the roof, and with high, narrow, 
numerous windows. Some of the ends are of w^ood, and 
quaintly carved. Here also is the many-storied palace of 
Charles V., Emperor of Germany and King of Spain, when 
the latter kingdom embraced also these provinces. It is 
black and strange-looking, with its carvings and projections 
and gables — of a quaint age and style of architecture — 
Moorish, Spanish, and Gothic. Kear it is, in modern style, 
one of the palaces of the present king of the Belgians, that 
fortunate, unfortunate man, who married the only daughter 
of George IV., King of England. She died. He was elected 
King of Belgium, when the Allied Powers reconstructed 
Europe at the downfall of Napoleon, married an arch- 
duchess of Austria; she died in 1850, leaving a son (Duke 
of Brabant,) and two other children. But here we enter a 
back court-yard, surrounded by walls, of an old church, 
and what a scene it is of sculptured saints and prophets 
standing all around, gazing in devotion on a tomb further 
on, cut out of solid rock. You look through an iron grating 
and you perceive the fac simile of a body dressed for the 
grave. It is called Calvary, the exact representation, it is 
said, of the reputed sepulchre of Christ, at Jerusalem. But 
here is another place, no less than Purgatory, representing 
the departed, surrounded and devoured by flames in agony, 
they raise their eyes and hands beseeching the prayers 
of the church. It is all carved in wood, and is truly strik- 
ing. The walls around, and the pedestals on which the 
statues stand, are of cinders cemented together. Near this 
is the Cathedral church, with its spire rising more than four 
hundred and sixty feet high, a wonder and a miracle of 
beauty. This is probably the most beautiful spire in the 
world. There are its singular chimes, consisting, it is said, 
of ninety-nine bells, playing a mournful, religious air, high 
above, yet heard amidst the din of human life below. We 



ANTWERP. 173 

visited some of the numerous and splendid churches of 
Antwerp, with their fine paintings by renowned masters — 
Eubens, Yandyck, and others. Whole pulpits of extraor- 
dinary carved work, with great adornings of saints, birds, 
fishes — these, in some cases, represented as listening with 
devout and ludicrous attention to the speaker — nets; also 
statues, all carved out of oak, and exceedingly beautiful 
and perfect in attitude and expression ; also finely-carved 
marble allegoric scenes, tombs, etc., where repose the dead 
amidst glorious surroundings. The views, in some of these 
churches, are of the most splendid and beautiful character, 
and well calculated to impress the mind strongly. The 
lofty columns that support the immense vault or nave (all 
being in the form of a Latin cross) ; the richness of the 
paintings ; the numerous side-chapels, with their tombs ; the 
carved columns of marble ; the stone floors, (there being no 
pews or seats,) on each slab of which are engraved the 
name and epitaph of the deceased who slumbers in the 
vault below ; all are in the highest degree interesting to one 
that reflects on the messages of the eye to the mind. But 
the chief attraction of all is the canvas where Eubens has 
stamped the immortality of his genius. He died in this 
city, and we saw his tomb, with one of his paintings, which 
he painted for that purpose, hanging over it. He died in 
1640. It is surprising what great-hearted men the four 
great painters, Raphael, Michael Angelo Buonarotti, Rubens, 
and Murillo, were. But great genius is always god-like 
and noble. Rubens, the warm-hearted and friendly ; Ra- 
phael, the divine and elevated, who seems to have dwelt 
with Madonnas ; and Michael Angelo, the universal- 
minded ; and Murillo, the simply great and soul-like, were 
all great men. Rubens' works are more numerous in Ant- 
werp than any other place. The '^ Descent from the Cross,'' 
in the Cathedral, is regarded as his greatest. The ''Eleva- 
tion of the Cross," and the " Assumption of the Virgin," and 

p2 



174 LONDON. 

the "Scourging of Christ," are paintings over which the 
eye and mind long linger, being most extraordinary deline- 
ations, and startlingly real-like. The body of the Saviour, 
in the " Descent from the Cross," the face and expression 
of Mary in the " Assumption," and the face of Peter, (in the 
painting at Cologne,) have probably never been surpassed. 
They dwell on the mind like a solemn, intense memory, 
which time has rendered painless, and we at once recognize 
the unfathomable depth of the genius which depicted the 
scenes. 

Antwerp has considerable commerce, manufactories of 
black lace, bleaching and the embroidery of lace. The long 
duration of the Spanish domination here, has left traces in 
the dark beauty and grace of the women. The great Bourse 
is a modern building in the Moorish style. 

LONDON. 

But changes again. It is the evening of October 1st, and 
I am one of the two millions and a half of human beings 
whose hearts are now beating in London. High in the air 
shines the moon over the great city of multitudinous streets 
and palaces, where human life goes on, and there rolls the 
Thames as it has done since the world began, with its artifi- 
cial forest of masts. Humanity is a great thing, and man 
is mighty. In the course of our ramblings we have come 
hither also. Yesterday, at one o'clock, we left Antwerp, 
stepped off the continent of Europe, and descended the 
broad Scheldt in the good steamer Baron Osy. The great 
spire of the Cathedral, that pretty, mathematical thing of 
stone, columns, fref-work, tapering upward till lost in the 
clouds, was the last thing visible, fading underneath the 
horizon, as we passed seaward. The country around the 
Scheldt is level and marshy, but high embankments protect 
it from overflow, and several old, Dutch cities, unaltered for 
centuries, may be seen on and near its banks, and the 



LONDON". 175 

ancient-looking windmills are flapping their broad wings in 
the wind in all directions. For here air is not to breathe 
merely, but to turn windmills. But the Scheldt expands 
into the North Sea, and we lose sight of the continent 
of Europe, and our course is westward toward our native 
land, and the sea is around us with its white waves again. 
About two o'clock this morning, we entered the mouth 
of the Thames. But soon a fog came over all things, and 
forbade our further progress. This was a peculiarly English 
fog, dense, awful, damp, and execrable. "England, with 
all thy faults, I love thee still," but certainly not with all 
thy "fogs." Our vessel had many English on board, and 
it was pleasant to hear again the accents of our native land. 
Englishmen speak English, but with not the same accent 
Americans do, or rather, we speak English, but with very 
little accent. When we sat down to table on the steamer, 
behold, tables cfhote were no more! There are lacking, 
however, the continental ease and politeness on the part 
of the servants. John Bull is awkward and unpolished, 
though a good fellow at bottom. But instead of being 
polite himself, he will unfold to you a lecture on politeness. 
You miss Erench everywhere, and it is, indeed, a sort 
of returning home to come to England. The language and 
intellect are the same, the literature is common to both, and 
there is a home feeling in the hearts of true Americans for 
England. They are not, in general, so quick and active as 
we, nor can they accomplish so much in so short a time ; 
they are slower and more old world-like, but more fixed 
and steady, and not so wild and reckless. American as I 
am, "and a quarter over," I think England is the most 
respectable nation on earth, in all past or present time. 
The feeling they have for us is somewhat similar to that a 
parent has for a wild, successful, irreverent boy ; they rather 
take pride in our success, though they do not admire the 
means. There is a warm place in the heart of Old England 



176 LONDON. 

for us yet. Blood is thicker than water. "We have taught 
them to respect us, however, but yet, like the aforesaid 
parent with his boy, they do not know exactly what to 
make of us, and are willing to own us if we act creditably, 
and reject us at once if not. 

After awhile the fog cleared off, and we began to see the 
level, green banks of the Thames, with the hills in the dis- 
tance, and on them many home-like English houses. We 
passed numerous ships — we saw the yet unlaunched Levia- 
than, the monster among vessels, lying on the stocks close 
to the river. At Gravesend the custom-house officers came 
on board, examined every particle of baggage, lest articles 
forbidden by law might be smuggled into the country ; but 
not a word was said about passports, which are not required 
in England. This was done very courteously, and the bag- 
gage continued in possession of the officers till we landed, 
when it was delivered to us. We passed Greenwich, the 
celebrated hospital for disabled seamen, and we now entered 
a second fog' — worse than the first — the peculiar fog smoke 
of London. We were gliding through a multitude of ves- 
sels of all nations, on a something called the Thames, 
presumed to be water, yet yellowish, and unlike any other 
water. The intense human life of a vast city began to 
appear on the shore. We at length landed near the histori- 
cal, white-looking Tower of London, going back for its origin 
into dim ages. We drove through the winding, crowded 
streets, to Morley's Hotel on Trafalgar Square, which, hav- 
ing a central situation, is convenient for travelers. In front 
are several fine fountains, several lofty monuments, one to 
Lord Nelson. Of course it is useless to attempt a descrip- 
tion of London. It produces the impression on one of a 
silent yet busy power. British energy sets in motion a vast 
and varied life here. Our ride was through what is called 
the city toward the West End, passing under the Temple 
Bar — a huge, old gate across the street- — the only gate re- 



LONDON. 177 

maining of tlie old fortifications; then along ttie Strand. It 
is a human living ocean of individual souls in action. 
There is the intense but more sustained and less speculative 
American energy ; there are the palatial streets ; the river, 
half sea and half river, with its ships; the memories of the 
by-gone, and more than all, the historical associations that 
link it with such men as Newton, Scott, Byron, Shakspeare 
— men who belong to no clime, bat are the common prop- 
erty of man — who once trod these streets and gazed on these 
scenes. The city, however, is somewhat dingy, and does 
not present the lightsome, gay, and elegant and rather 
enjoyable appearance that some cities, Paris for instance, 
have. The people all seem workers, intense workers, as if 
life were made for labor, and as if money-getting were the 
necessity and condition of existence. 

To-day, October 2d, I walked about this great astonish- 
ment — London. I entered St. Paul's Church, the largest 
Protestant church in the world, and only exceeded by the 
Catholic church of St. Peter, at Rome. It is the best place 
to visit first, in order to ascend to its summit, so as to have 
a view over the whole of London. It covers near three 
acres. In the interior it is of course immense, but neither 
so strikingly beautiful, nor so interesting as many Catholic 
churches which we have seen. The service, which is read 
three times every day in the year, is in a chapel, occupying 
but a small part of the interior. There are no paintings, 
nor any ornament but tombs. That of John Howard, the 
Philanthropist, seems in the best taste. We ascended to 
the Whispering Gallery in the dome, where the slightest 
whisper at one side is heard on the opposite side ; then to 
the Golden Gallery, three hundred feet high, requiring five 
hundred and thirty-four steps, whence the view embraces 
the whole city and the hills around London; the Crystal 
Palace, twenty miles off; the Thames, advancing and re- 
ceding with the tide ; its numerous bridges and boats ; the 
12 



178 LONDON. 

mammotli city, with its streets, squares, large churclies, etc. 
We descended into the crypt underneath the church, and 
saw the grave of Benjamin West, the eminent painter, a 
native of our own country, and also that of Sir Christopher 
Wren, the architect of this church. The epitaph on the 
latter is an instance of the ridiculous closely following the 
sublime. '' Eeader, he is the builder of this church, and 
lived more than ninety years, not for his own, but others' 
good. If you seek his monument, look around you ; and 
go and see Sir J. Sloane's Museum, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, 
where his watch and other relics may be seen." The re- 
mains of Lord Nelson are here also, with the simple inscrip- 
tion, "Horatio Yiscount jSTelson." The body of Lord 
Wellington lies here also, enclosed in wooden coffins, the 
tomb, which is to be a very splendid one of red granite, not 
being yet prepared. It has not been the custom to bury 
"any man of blood," or any soldier, in Westminster Abbey 
for some hundreds of years, or else the noble Duke's re- 
mains would have rested there. I had seen, only a few 
days before, the battle-ground of the Duke's glory, and how 
great the contrast of the life there, to the death here. The 
two that warred on that field, now sleep quietly enough. 
The feelings inspired by St. Paul's Church are very impres- 
sive. It is in the heart of the great, noisy, busy city. 
Without is the w^orld — within are repose, and death, and 
silence. This great church cost near eight million dollars, 
and was seven years in building. As a whole, however, 
this church is not beautiful. The British can write and 
fight, but neither build nor paint; and in beauty, taste, and 
elegance, St. Paul's, notwithstanding the impression pro- 
duced by its great size, is inferior to many churches on the 
Continent. 

In the course of the day, some business carried me to the 
West End of London. Here are few or no shops, not much 
noise; the grand and stately residences of the English 



LONDON. 179 

nobility — the finest nobility in the world — are here; and 
the general air and appearance of every thing is so in- 
tensely aristocratic, as almost to devour one's breath. Here 
wealth is entrenched, enshrined, and worshiped — birth, 
breeding, and Norman descent. Here family dignity must 
be kept up ; marriages are but a method of doing it, and 
the inner heart-world supplies a dole of human sorrow 
more severe tban the necessity of daily toil imposes on the 
lower classes. Here tamely and regularly-begotten families 
live and prosper, on such places as Grosvenor and Berkely 
Squares — large spaces, five or six acres in extent, embel- 
lished with trees and fountains and statues — have houses, 
looking out on the square, all of brick, with steps descend- 
ing from the street into the basement story, which is also 
well lighted. To be begotten and born, and of Norman 
descent — these constitute all in life desirable in these 
regions. Money will come by inheritance, marriage, or a 
pension. 

The excursion of William the Conqueror, and his sixty 
thousand robbers, in the year 1066, has been one of the 
most successful fillibustering expeditions on record. Seeing 
a fine opening in the disorganized state of England, they 
came over from Normandy, founded the present dynasty, 
and the principal English families. A titled nobility will, 
however, ere long, become one of the obsolete ideas of the 
middle ages — unless civilization should retrograde, and new 
dark ages arise. There is scarcely any nobility in France ; 
the new dynasty there looks with an evil eye on hereditary 
pretensions older than itself The day will come, if it have 
not already, when monarchy and its correlative, a titled 
aristocracy, will exist in England only on sufferance. We 
have, however, in America, a curious, contemptible thing, 
called aristocracy, existing neither on blood, birth, or breed- 
ing — but often on bacon — whereby it appears that some- 
body, or some bodies, are better somehow than others — 



180 LONDON. 

thoiigli how it came about, does not distinctly appear. 
There is, in America, the finest opening the world has ever 
seen for the creation of an aristocracy founded on moral 
conduct, refinement, and manliness of manners, intellect, 
etc., for the simple reason that, historically, we can have no 
other foundation. The Puritans were never any great things, 
except religiously, at any rate, in regard to blood ; and as 
to the cavaliers and adventurers generally, who settled in 
other regions, the less investigation into their origin and 
causes of emigration, probably the better. Honor should 
be individual, necessarily ; and ascending to a renowned an- 
cestor to find it, is a confession of the absence of personal, 
or at least unasserted claims. There is, doubtless, an 
attraction of mind or feeling to body, and the physical 
organization may carry with it some portion of the mental 
or moral qualities. But American aristocracy is a weak, 
lame, puny thing. We should respect our grandfathers 
while they live, and when they die, write Reqidescat in pace 
-on their tombs; and as to any thing further back than a 
grandfather, few, except most rash and reckless persons, 
admit of their ever having existed, except inferentially. 
"'^I am the Hapsburgh of my family!" said Napoleon to the 
Austrians, who wanted to find a princely ancestry for him. 
If every man in America were to aspire to be the founder 
of a family, instead of the scion of one, we would indeed 
be a race of heroes ; and as for ladies, it is better to be the 
mother of a hero, than the descendant of a Howard, '^ It 
is more blessed to give than to receive." 

To-day (October 3d), I have further been an atom on this 
great fevered sea of London — this monument of man, de- 
veloping all the susceptibilities of human life. We went 
through the two Houses of Parliament — which are not yet 
fully finished — passing along the grand staircases, lobby- 
rooms, princes' apartments, etc. The work is all , of the 
most exquisite, intricate, and rather delicate Gothic work- 



LONDON. 181 

man ship, adorned with all that intellect can conceive or 
wealth furnish. The House of Lords is probably one of the 
most splendid rooms in Europe. Here meet the great, dull, 
proud men, and say little or nothing. What occasion have 
they for the effort of greatness? They have it already. 
They can only be dull, and keep what they have. The 
carved work, the painted, historical windows, illustrating 
scenes in the deep mine of English history, are exquisite. 
The Chair of State for Victoria, with that of her son, the 
Prince of Wales, on the right, that of her husband. Prince 
Albert, on the left, are of the most gorgeous description. 
The House of Commons^ in the same building, is larger, 
and adorned in almost as rich a manner. Altogether, these 
houses are far more splendid, intricate, and beautiful, than 
our Houses of Congress; but the style is not so massive, 
large, and endurable. The delicate Gothic is used here, ad- 
mitting of ornamental profusion. The stone of which these 
palaces are built, is, exteriorly, English stone — interiorly, 
Caen stone, from France ; the latter being easy to carve in, 
and durable. The chapel of St. Stephen and the old Hall of 
Westminster were also visited. The latter is a splendid old 
room, of the eleventh or twelfth centuries, with a most sin- 
gular and ancient ceiling, supported without pillars. It has 
witnessed some of the most remarkable scenes in Eno^lish 
history. Cromwell was here installed as Lord Protector, 
Sir Thomas More condemned to die, the Regicides sat in 
judgment on Charles I., Earl of Stafford condemned, War- 
ren Hastings tried, etc. These buildings, all included, 
occupy near eight acres. The front on the Thames is nine 
hundred and forty feet long, and is extremely beautiful. 
The old Parliament Houses were destroyed by fire in 1834, 
and these erected on their site. The largest square tow^er 
in the world, called Victoria Tower, arises from these build- 
ings. It does not appear to be in very good taste, however. 
We also entered Westminster Abbey, which is near the new 

Q 



182 LONDON. 

Parliament Houses, and is the great burial-place of En- 
gland's great men and old kings, whose tombs here are so 
numerous, elegant, eloquent, and ancient, that they neutral- 
ize the effect produced by each other. It is England's 
history embalmed, and its greatness enshrined. The im- 
mense size of this building, the great height, the numerous 
lofty old columns, like a forest of stone, the dim and high 
painted windows, the numerous, ancient, mouldering tombs 
of kings, queens, princes, dukes, lords of all kinds and 
ages, with eflSgies, inscriptions, armorial bearings, attest the 
greatness, weakness, nothingness, vanity, of man's efforts 
to extenuate death. It is in the pure, heavy, religious, 
Gothic style of the twelfth century, and is in the form of a 
long cross : greatest length, four hundred and eighty-nine 
feet ; length of the cross aisle, or transept, one hundred and 
eighty-nine feet. Here the kings were crowned, and here 
buried. 

To-day, I also went through the Tower of London. Its 
position is close to the river. It seems to be used princi- 
pally now as an armory, and place for military supplies and 
stores. One of the guards about, takes you through the 
Tower. We were shown into a vast hall, containing heroes 
on horseback, clad in the mailed armor of past ages ; all in 
plaster, however, except the armor, which was the original 
armor worn by the kings and princes represented by the 
statues. Here were all kinds of warlike implements, lances, 
pikes, maces, used in the middle ages. We saw the cham- 
ber, or dungeon, in which Sir Walter Ealeigh was confined 
twelve years, the execution block on which royal blood has 
flowed ; also, the mask used by the executioner, when de- 
capitating one. We also saw the crown of Victoria, that 
of the Prince of Wales, and other crowns worn by the 
kings of England — beautiful, all of massy gold, and glow- 
ing with gems ; the table-service, also of gold ; the baptis- 
mal font, several maces and walking staffs of gold, used by 



L0ND02«^. 183 

various kings — all beautiful, expensive, useless ; but tbey 
do well enough to keep up the fiction of a kingly govern- 
ment, with its splendors and proprieties. This Tower has 
been used as much as an engine of tyranny as the French 
Bastile was. But it stands strongly and firmly, while the 
French could not endure their State prison. We were 
shown into one of the prisons, where we saw much carving 
and writing on the walls of stone, probably done with a 
rusty nail, wherewith captives had wearily waned out the 
hours of imprisonment, leaving melancholy mementoes of 
days that would not pass away. English history is all 
stained with blood and cruelty. Yet the people are com- 
fortable under their government at present, and attached, 
with a home feeling, to the Eoyal Family. In matters of 
government, the English people of the present day are 
" slow to wrath," and they are wedded to ancient ideas. 
"Were it not for these considerations, they would escape from 
the thraldom of a dull, ancient, useless monarchy, suited 
well enough to the middle ages, when the right had to be 
enforced by might. Their monarchy, peerage, and old 
things generally, will run themselves out soon. The age 
demands less government and more work, and begins to ask, 
what is the use of a Koyal Family, and all the cumbrous, 
expensive machinery of such a government? This is not 
from any default in the government, for it is, perhaps, bet- 
ter than any they would establish, but from a tendency in 
human nature to get tired of one set of things, and wish for 
something newly energetic. We were shown the White 
Tower, which was built by William the Conqueror, about 
1079. The flooring of many rooms is hard, polished, gray 
cement. In some apartments, there is much massive timber, 
and there are some oak carvings, indicative of high an- 
tiquity. One of the towers is called the Bloody Tower, 
because the two sons of Edward IV. were smothered, or 
murdered in some way, in it. Devereux Tower is where 



184 LONDON. 

the brilliant Earl of Essex was privately beheaded. The 
walls here are eleven feet in thickness. In a gloomy cham- 
ber of the Bowyer Tower is the place where the Duke of 
Clarence was drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine. In the 
Brick Tower was the prison of Lady Jane Grey. In the 
Beauchamp Tower are numerous records, made by prisoners 
— some of the Dudley family — imprisoned here as state 
prisoners. The inscriptions are in the English of three or 
four hundred years ago. Some are in Latin. Lady Jane 
Grey is said to have written these words in the room in 
which she was immured — 

** To mortals common fate thy mind resign — 
My lot to-day, to-morrow may be thine ;" 

but they could not be found. In one place are some old 
cannon, out of which it was customary to shoot stones. 
There is a great deal of armor here of various ages. Some 
kinds are made of small pieces of leather, in the form of 
fish-scales, or flat rings of steel, sowed to cloth or deer-skin. 
There is also chain mail — introduced by the crusaders — 
consisting of a number of little rings, which interlace each 
other, forming a connected garment. Some of the suits of 
armor were very splendid and costly, so that knights were 
often killed for the sake of their armor. A battle scene, in 
which all were mail-clad, even the horses, must have been 
a grand affair. The plate or flexible armor, composed of 
steel or iron plates moving on pivots, adapted to the mo- 
tions of the body. There are also specimens of the fluted 
kind of armor. There is armor here also of movable 
splints, and some kinds overlaid with gold. There are full 
suits of tilting armor. There are also specimens of the 
various kinds of arms — halberds, lances, battle-axes — all 
showing what a different thing war then was from what it 
is now. There are alsOj^^in the Tower, secret passages, tor- 
ture-rooms, dungeons, etc. The fatal block and axe are 



LONDON. 185 

bere. Many great men and kings — Irisli, Welsb, and 
Scotch heroes, have been imprisoned here. The noble 
Wallace ; Queen Anne Bolejn, and other wives of Henry 
VIIL, imprisoned here and beheaded. The last of the 
Plantagenets of whole blood here perished — the daughter 
of the murdered Clarence. Brought to the scaffold, she 
refused to lay her head on it : " So do traitors use to do, 
and I am no traitor !" said she. The executioner dragged 
the gray-haired, noble lady to the block by her hair. St. 
Peter's Chapel, built about the year 1100, is the place where 
the remains of these unfortunate prisoners — beautiful ladies, 
lovely queens, and noble men — all lie mouldering name- 
lessly away. The records of the Tower of London are, 
without doubt, darker than those of the Bastile. The 
Tower has also been used as a Royal residence, and 
splendid Tournaments were held here in the chivalrous 
ages of Europe. Nuptial celebrations of great queens 
were held here, who afterward were captives in its dun- 
geons, and died upon the block in its courts. The whole 
space within the bastion walls of the Tower is about twelve 
acres. 

To-day, Sunday, October 4th, we have partially lost sight 
of the continental Sunday. Some of the shops are open — 
the omnibusses all run — many of the railways — but in gen- 
eral the day is kept as in the United States. On the Conti- 
nent, that country of crucifixes and the Virgin Mary, there 
are very many fine churches, much church-going, great 
devotion, some honesty, but no Sunday, except at Geneva, 
Zurich, and a few other places. In very many towns on 
the Continent, in all, probably, where an English consul or 
minister is resident, there is a clergyman who performs the 
service and reads a sermon, being supported by English 
residents at the place, and partly by English or American 
travelers. In some cases you are obliged to pay before you 
have the preach — payment, generally about twenty-five or 

q2 



186 LONDON. 

thirty cents, being demanded at tlie door. This hearing the 
English service in remote places is a great gratification to 
the traveler, reminding him of the scenes of home. To-day 
I attended service in Westminster Abbey, that " place of a 
thousand tombs." I heard a sermon on humility. It is the 
very place for such a discourse, amongst the monuments, 
effigies, and splendid mausoleums of those who lived in 
pride and moulder in magnificence. The music sounds 
well among the stately columns, but the preacher's voice is 
almost inaudible at a short distance, owing to the vast size, 
height, and numerous columns. The sermon did not indi- 
cate any great ability, but the grand, old English service 
seemed in keeping with the surroundings. The service is 
held in one of the chapels. I saw some tombs of old monks, 
in some of the side cloisters, eight hundred years old. 
Their manes do not listen now to the masses of old, the 
Abbey having been originally a Catholic church. I ob- 
served a tomb here to the memory of Major Andre, of our 
revolutionary history. To-day, also, I heard Dr. Cum- 
mings, one of the most able preachers in London, and the 
author of some valuable works. Many go to hear, to 
laugh at and with the renowned Spurgeon. I did not. 
The last laughable thing recorded of him is, that his wife 
having brought him twins, he gravely remarked — 

'' Not more than others I deserve, 
Yet God has given me more." 

Though the evening was rainy, the house, which is not a 
large one, was crowded. The doctor administered some 
heavy blows to the Komanists and Unitarians, but gave, 
also, a most impressive and plain, practical elucidation of 
" Christ and him crucified," which, he said, was Paul's one 
idea — and he took occasion to eulogize men of one idea, 
when the idea is a magnificent one — said they are the great 
successful men of the world. The doctor uses plain Ian- 



LONDON. 187 

guage, and is doubtless an able, good, and useful man. 
His style is plain and strong. 

To-day, Monday, October 6th, we leave London to visit 
"Windsor Castle, the winter residence of the Queen. It is 
twenty-five miles from London. We pass by railway up 
the river, starting from the station at Waterloo Bridge. 
The land on our route is well cultivated; nearly level; has 
numerous villages, orchards, and market-gardens. Women 
are at work in the fields ; and the general appearance of the 
country and houses is old, comfortable, and pleasant. We 
cross the Thames, which, when the tide is down, appears 
but an inconsiderable stream. Here are some pleasant vil- 
lages, such as Twickenham, long the residence of Pope, the 
poet ; and Eichmond, with a royal palace, with which many 
historical associations are connected. Queen Elizabeth died 
there in 1603. At length we arrive at the old castle, part 
of which was built by William the Conqueror, and it has 
been the residence of the Royal Family ever since, a period 
of eight hundred years. It stands on a hill, with the village 
of Windsor at the base of the hill. As usual, we are im- 
mediately beset with guides, who want to show us the 
grounds and point out the different parts of the castle. 
Having procured a ticket of admission in London, from 
persons authorized to grant it, immediate entrance is given. 
The Queen is absent now in Scotland, being expected here, 
however, on the 14th of this month. We enter the chapel 
of St. George which belongs to the castle. We are shown, 
as usual, many graves — some six hundred years old — monu- 
ments also which are very beautiful — those of the Duke of 
Beaufort, and that of the Princess Charlotte, daughter of 
George IV.; the vaults, also, where repose the ashes of 
George III. and George IV., and other kings. There are 
some very. exquisite paintings here, a fine organ, and the 
old, carved wood-work appears the best and most intricate 
we have seen. These productions of art are, many of them, 



188 LONDON. 

from Italy. We were shown where the Queen and Eoyal 
Family sit during service, having a private passage from 
the castle to the chapel. From this we went through many 
apartments of the castle — one of the Queen's servants, in 
grand livery, conducting us. These rooms are very splen- 
did, though not near equal to those of Yersailles, or the 
Tuilleries. They have, however, some very fine paintings, 
principally portraits. The audience-chamber is a very 
large, fine room. We also ascended the tower, and saw 
below, near the village of Windsor, on the green banks of 
the ThameS; Eton College, *Svhose distant spires and an- 
tique towers crown the watery glade." 

" From the stately brow 

Of Windsor's heights the expanse helow 
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, 

Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among 
. Wanders the hoary Thames along 
His silver-winding way." 

All the scene is very suggestive of Grray, the poet. Buried 
among the trees, in the distance, is half-seen the spires of 
the church of Stoke Pogis, where he is buried, and where 
he wrote the "Elegy in a Country Church Yard," which 
has wreathed immortality with his name, and his " Ode on 
a Distant Prospect of Eton College" is so admirably descrip- 
tive of the scene as to be immediately recalled to mind. 
Harrow on the Hill, where Lord Byron and Sir Eobert Peel 
were educated, is also clearly seen ; the Crystal Palace, 
that creation of iron and glass, sparkles in the sunlight more 
than twenty miles off; the large park, also, of four thousand 
acres, where are, it is said, ten thousand deer ; the meadow 
of Runnymede, where the "barons bolde" compelled King- 
John to sign the Magna Charta — all are visible. Indeed 
the scene on a fine day is wondrously beautiful, and histori- 
cally interesting. Windsor Castle is not so high as some 
castles we have seen; yet the buildings extend over a great 
space of ground, and the part built by William the Con- 



LONDON. 189 

queror looks very old. There are state dungeons here as 
well as in the Tower, which are not shown to the public. 
We saw also the Queen and Prince Albert's, and the Prince 
of Wales's horses, which are a collection of small but appa- 
rently high-blooded animals, better lodged infinitely than 
many of their subjects. The state-carriages are of many 
different kinds, but are plain. We saw the place for the 
riding-school of the younger children of the queen. One 
cannot much admire royalty on this view of it in its sur- 
roundino-s. The mind must dwarf when it has nothing^ to 

o o 

do — when every thing is done for it. The glorious satisfac- 
tion of self-labor for one's-self is taken away. Every thing- 
is already done for them, and life must often seem monoto- 
nous, and weary, and useless. The outside glitter is often 
at the expense of the inside peace. It is said when the 
queen is here three hundred and twenty-five domestics are 
required in the castle. The queen's mother — the Duchess 
of Kent — lives in a place within sight, rejoicing in the 
uneuphonious name of Frogmore. To see the castle and 
also to see the horses requires a special ticket of admission. 
Whether the latter feel themselves honored by being objects 
of curiosity we did not inquire — perhaps because their 
answer would certainly have been Neigh. 

I have also visited Thames Tunnel, which is a mile or 
two below the city. You descend by a long, winding stair- 
case, into a deep crypt in the river, and you see the vast gas- 
lit tunnel before you, with its shops, music, promenaders. 
You pass entirely under the river to the other side, and as- 
cend by a similar winding staircase. This subaqueous pas- 
sage is lined with shops of all kinds, and resembles one of 
the low, narrow, arched streets to be seen in some Eui'opean 
cities. The air, however, seems close and unpleasant. It 
is well lit with gas, day and night, and forms a very pleasant 
promenade. The charge for passing through is only one 
penny, or two cents. It consists of two walls or arches, 



190 LONDON. 

both alike : one for carriages (whicli are let down by ma- 
cbinerj) to pass by ; and the other, by which to return — 
alongside of which are raised places for foot passengers. 
There are about fifteen feet between the bed of the river and 
the top of the arches. 

The form of London is nearly an ellipse. It is said to 
contain two hundred and fifty thousand houses, thirteen 
thousand streets, squares, etc., and more than two million 
five hundred thousand inhabitants. The distance around 
the city is thirty miles. It is probably not so large as 
Eome in the days of Augustus or Trajan — or ancient Baby- 
lon and Nineveh. The origin of London is by some traced 
to gods and demigods — to one Brote, a descendant of Eneas, 
eleven hundred and eight years before the Christian era, 
which of course is absurd. Laertius mentions it under the 
name of Londinium. King Lud is said to have repaired itj 
from which it was called Ludstown; which name became 
London. Others derive it from Lun^ which, in the old 
Scandinavian language, means a grove — and Den, a town. 
London has about five hundred churches at present. There 
are six or seven bridges across the Thames. Over one of 
them — the Blackfriars — there have been counted, in one 
day, in summer, passing, one hundred and twenty-five 
thousand persons. There are four or five great parks; 
some of which contain five hundred or six hundred acres, 
beautfully embellished with promenades, drives, fountains, 
statues, columns. There are more than thirty hospitals, ex- 
clusively for old women ; more than one hundred for old 
persons of both sexes. It is calculated there are expended 
in charity, in this way, nearly four million dollars annually 
in this city. About fifteen thousand vessels arrive each 
year in the port of London. London alone employs about 
five thousand ; and there are at least twelve hundred found 
always on the Thames. London is truly a vast place. 
You will pass through streets, in which there is a surfeit of 



EDINBURGH. 191 

splendor; and strong, stately, and substantial wealth has 
left its trace on every thing. Yon will continue your walk 
and encounter scenes of entire and squalid wretchedness, 
where humanity lives in filth, and breathes in noxious air. 
You will then come upon streets full of commercial life and 
business — shops blazing with jewelry and works of art; 
then you will come upon streets, quiet and silent, as if in 
the country. In some places the heart of London seems 
throbbing, in others it is silent. Within a stone's throw of 
where religious service has been celebrated, twice a day, for 
a thousand years, you will find heathendom, Sabbath- 
breaking, and utter godlessness. You will be accosted in 
the streets by prostitutes, who excuse themselves on the 
plea of bitter necessity, for bread. An aged, starving pros- 
titute, begs a penny for bread of you — when the next per- 
son you meet spends one hundred dollars per day ; or the 
next person, perhaps, is a lady, over the refined glass of 
whose face never, perhaps, passed a troublous thought of 
the base pottery of humanity about her. She is porcelain- 
china and they are dull, earthen clay. But it takes all 
sorts of people to make up a world ; and there are varieties 
enough in this great, old, noble, but withal a little slow and 
cautious nation. 
But we are now in 

EDINBURGH, 

the capital of Scotland. It is a holiday, or rather a fast 
day, a day of humiliation and prayer, on account of what 
they call the "Mutiny in India." The great British Empire 
would seem to be crumbling away — there is not enough 
centre power. The streets here are full of promenaders, 
and seekers after amusements. The churches are all open, 
however, and I have, to-day, heard a good old Scotch ser- 
mon, from the pulpit in which John Knox formerly held 
forth. From the hotel at which I am staying (McGregor's 



192 EDINBURGH. 

Hotel, Princes' street), the view is fine. From an immense 
rock, three hundred and eighty-three feet high, looks down 
the great Edinburgh Castle of Scotch history, now a strong 
fortification. It is a highly picturesque object, in this pic- 
turesque, uneven city of hills and hollows. Holyrood 
Palace, I have also seen ; and how many memories of the 
past, of Scotch history, are therewith eatwined ! — how much 
of the beautiful, unfortunate Mary, daughter, wife, and 
mother of kings 1 This city is interesting, old, and remark- 
able. The uneven appearance of the ground — in some 
places, high, abrupt, precipitous — admits of great variety in 
the aspect and height of the buildings. The hill on which 
Lord Nelson's monument is placed, afibrds a most enchant- 
ing prospect of the wide frith, its solitary isle, its antique 
fort, and then the hills beyond, among which, though invis- 
ible generally, is Loch Leven and its Castle. The popula- 
tion of this literary city is about one hundred and sixty 
thousand. But I must go back a little, and say how I got 
here, for though I was not spirited away from London by 
magic power, I came by means that the dark ages would 
have regarded as stranger than either magic or fiction. 

We left London yesterday, at half-past seven o'clock, on 
the Great Northern Eailway, departing from King's Cross 
Station. The weather was truly pleasant, and we passed 
over the beautiful and well cultivated scenes of "green and 
merrie England" with great rapidity. The railway fares 
are much higher than on the Continent, over six cents per 
mile, first-class, which are the only cars fit to travel in — the 
second-class being worse than the continental third. The 
land prospect was agreeably diversified, and pleasantly in- 
terspersed with woods, hedges, and cultivated ground. 
Much of it was almost as level as an American prairie. 
The scenes had an indescribable appearance of comfortable 
age, repose, and tranquillity, that I never saw anywhere 
else; an old English feeling arose in the mind when con- 



EDINBURGH. 193 

templating it. There is sometTiing in tlie solid comfort one 
sees here, of which Old England may well be proud. There 
are churches, mansions, villas, and gardens ; all look settled, 
comfortable, established, and old. Many of the places we 
passed are renowned among the annals of England's great 
men, among which are the residence of Sir Bulwer Lytton, 
the former residence of Dr. Young, Lord Holland's seat, etc. 
Part of the route was through the fenny districts of Hunt- 
ingdonshire, where of late years an extensive system of 
drainage has been adopted. The process of mixing the 
under clay soil with the top soil has been found of great 
advantage. This is the region where the Stilton cheese is 
manufactured. Passing Huntingdon and Peterborough, we 
entered Lincolnshire, much of the land of which is on a 
dead level, and was formerly boggy, though now the most 
productive land in the kingdom. We then passed Boston, 
a company from which settled Boston in the United States, , 
saw the Ouse and Trent rivers, entered Nottinghamshire, 
where the climate is drier and the face of the country more 
elevated ; much clover and wheat are raised. We then en- 
tered Yorkshire, the scenery becoming wilder, and arrived 
at the ancient town of York, distant two hundred miles 
from London, in five hours after leaving the latter place. 
York has attractions in its ancient walls, gates, Eoman in- 
scriptions, and its fine Cathedral ; yet, being indifferent to 
exploring them at present, we continued our route. We 
then entered the County of Durham, more bleak and barren, 
yet with pleasant hills and vales, appropriated to the growth 
of corn and pasturage. Many of the hills being composed 
of the blue or mountain limestone ; parts also being cele- 
brated for coal mines, some of which extend twelve hun- 
dred feet below the surface, the seams or strata of coal 
extending, horizontally, for many miles — each stratum from 
three to eight feet thick. Many places have also lead works. 
One of the old towns through which we passed is called 

13 R 



194 EDINBURGH. 

Washington, tliat family having originated in this part of 
England. We then entered Northumberland, the most 
northern county of England, once a distinct kingdom, par- 
ticularly distinguished for its agriculture and its coal mines 
— the latter were first worked in A. D. 1260 ; but only 
since the invention of the steam-engine, by which the water 
is pumped out of the mines, have the strata been rendered 
thoroughly available. Some of the shafts are eighteen 
hundred feet in depth. We reached Newcastle-on-Tyne, 
about sunset. This is a remarkably black-looking place, 
of large size (eighty-eight thousand inhabitants). It has a 
large Castle, standing near the line of railway. The latter 
crosses the Tyne over a splendid viaduct of iron, fourteen 
hundred feet long ; thirty-two feet below it, there is a com- 
mon roadway or bridge. The Tyne is navigable to the 
German Ocean ; the coal-fields around are, by some, regarded 
as the richest in the world. Within the town are many re- 
mains of the old Eoman wall, which was built to connect the 
two seas, and protect England from the attacks of the Scots. 
The country now appeared more hilly, especially on the 
side next to the North Sea. About dark, we entered Scot- 
land at the town of Berwick-on-Tweed, glimmering in the 
gas-light, and disclosing a fine view of the broad Forth, 
looking like a sea, over which lay the white moon-light. 
Near this is the scene^ of part of Scott's Marmion, and 
others of his works. The shimmering, creeping sea, ap- 
peared frequently in view among the high hills, as we 
passed along. Many beautiful seats, ruins of castles, etc., are 
along the route ; the country becomes more hilly and rocky ; 
and at length, after a ride of four hundred miles through En- 
gland and Scotland, we entered Edinburgh, in about eleven 
hours after leaving London. 

Eew sights could be really more beautiful than the appear- 
ance of the opposite side of the city and Castle, when seen 
at night; from Princes' street. The gas-lit dwellings rise one 



EDINBURGH. 195 

above the other, like an amphitheatre of houses. Some of 
them are twelve stories high. All sorts of historical asso- 
ciations cluster in this city— things of kings and great men, 
and famous writers, lords, and earls. The monument to 
Scott is very fine. It rises two hundred feet high, occu- 
pies a conspicuous situation, and underneath it (it has some- 
Avhat the appearance of a continental church spire) there 
is a fine statue of him and his dog — the latter looking up 
affectionately to his face. Scott is the great interpreter of 
those feelings which arise, naturally, in the mind when sur- 
veying the scenery of Scotland with a poetic imagination, 
full of the memories of the past. It is somewhat like a 
pyramid, and has niches in it for statues, illustrating his 
works. One, in looking at it, feels the great power of 
genius over man, and how it extends down the corridors of 
time, like a mighty twilight, when its day of life is past. 
There is now, out in the street, a regular old Highlander, 
in fall costume, with his plaid and gown, playing on that 
old, droning instrument, the bagpipe. It would seem here 
as if it was a ragged, torn leaf, out of the days of Wallace 
and Bruce. But no ! the old times are gone ; this is the age 
of railways, and commerce, and manufactures; the old 
castles are curiosities, the abbeys are antique, the monks 
have mouldered, and the grand times of lords and ladies 
and knights, and high chivalrous feelings, are over and 
"done gone." 

To-day, Friday, October 9th, I made the ascent of Arthur's 
Seat, near Edinburgh, from which there is one of the finest 
views in Grreat Britain. The height is eight hundred and 
twenty-two feet, and the view comprehends the city, castle, 
sea, and a grand view of cultivated land, and sea-dashed 
rocks. Much of the view, while I was there, was obscured 
by a fog, driven by a wind rushing through the valley, be- 
tween the summit and Salisbury crags, like an upward 
cataract. Near this is the scene of part of Scott's '' Heart 



196 EDINBURGH. 

of Mid-Lothian." AscendiDg tbe hill; I passed near an 
ancient ruin called St. Antbon3^'s Chapel. We also entered 
to-day, Holyrood Palace, so closely entwined with Scotch 
history and Scotch romance. The building is old-looking 
and partly empty, and would seem to be an excellent open- 
ing for ghosts. One large room contains the portraits of 
one hundred and ten manufactured likenesses of Scotch 
sovereigns. But the rooms of chief interest are small^ old- 
looking rooms, connected with Queen Mary, Lord Darnley, 
her husband, and Rizzio the Italian. We saw her dress- 
ing-room, needle-work done by her when a happy girl in a 
French convent, her bed also, and other things, unchanged 
for several hundred years, all looking very, very old, and 
the rooms very dull and dusty. Lord Darnley's armor and 
boots were also shown; his dressing-room; the room in 
which Queen Mary with Rizzio and others were at supper, 
and from whence Rizzio was dragged, while clinging to 
her garments and imploring her protection, and murdered. 
The place in which he was finally dispatched with fifty-six 
wounds, and the floor, evidently deeply discolored, or de- 
stained by something said to be his blood, is shown ; and 
the partition, also, which Queen Mary caused to be made 
in order to conceal the ineffaceable blood. The guide who 
conducted us deemed to believe the story about its being 
impossible to remove the blood. It is a historical problem 
as to whether Queen Mary was accessory to the death of 
Darnley, which happened soon after that of Rizzio. Rizzio 
was probably in the employ of the Pope, and may have 
been Mary's confessor, in the disguise of a musician ; but 
the absurd jealousy of Lord Darnley had probably no real 
foundation. When informed of Rizzio's death, she said she 
would now dry her tears and study revenge. This, with 
her subsequent marriage to Earl Bothwell, the instigator of 
Darnley's murder, have been thought strong evidence 
against her. But if she were guilty, her crime is almost 



EDINBURGH. 197 

lost in the magnitude of her misfortunes. Darnley was a 
weak, unenergetic character, and probably his conduct at the 
murder of Eizzio, lost all her affection for him, and perhaps 
others chose to act for her and interpret her wish by action 
without any direct agency of hers. The evidence for and 
against her is nicely balanced. Miss Strickland, in her 
'^ Lives of the Queens of England," is thought to have 
proved her innocence. But, like most historical puzzles, 
the doubt remains after the proof is clear. We also saw 
the ruined Abbey of Holy rood, close adjoining, and much 
older than the palace. This is indeed a royal ruin. The 
roof is all gone, some columns of the aisle yet remain, and 
many old, ecclesiastical grave-stones, some of which are 
utterly undecipherable from age. 'Tis a sad place now, yet 
it had a past of glory in old days. We saw the place where 
Queen Mary knelt at the gorgeous ceremony of her marriage 
to Lord Darnley. We also saw the apartments of Lord 
Breadalbane, where are some splendid rooms and fine 
paintings, amongst them a Satyr, by Rubens. Lord B. is 
the principal officer of the Queen's household. She is ex- 
pected here in a few days, and preparations are making to 
receive her in this palace. I also visited, to-day, (having a 
ticket of admission for that purpose,) the interior of the 
great Castle — the ascent being a long one up the mountain 
rock. There I saw in a small room without windows, in the 
centre of the rocky building, the regalia of Scotland, the 
crown, sword of state, sceptre, etc. These have no wearer 
now, the crown of Scotland being merged in that of England. 
It is a singular circumstance in history, that in the son of 
the unfortunate Mary, James I. of England and YI. of Scot- 
land, merged the three great dynasties of William the 
Conqueror of the Norman line, originating in A. D. 1066 ; 
also the Anglo-Saxon line of Egbert, originating A. D. 800 ; 
and the Scottish line of kings originating from Alpin, A. D. 
831, all concentrating in James I., and of course also in 

r2 



198 EDINBURGH. 

Queen Victoria. Several brilliant lamps, kept burning all 
the time, cast a light over these valuable jewels of Scot- 
land's old days of independence, and a guardian keeps 
watch over them. The crown is of the purest gold, and 
consists of two circles or rims — the under one much the 
broader — and are surmounted with knobs or pinnacles of 
gold, tipped with large pearls. The under rim is adorned 
with twenty-two precious stones, between each of which is 
interposed an oriental pearl ; the stones are topazes, ame- 
thysts, emeralds, rubies, and jacinths; the smaller circle is 
adorned with diamonds and sapphires alternately. Of course 
the crown is hollow, like many of the heads that have worn 
it. The various vicissitudes these regalia have undergone 
are very interesting. There is said to be a subterraneous 
passage extending from this strong, rocky fortress, under 
the old town of Edinburgh, to Holyrood Palace. I saw 
the room Queen Mary occupied in the Castle ; the small 
room, not more than eight feet square, in which James I. 
was born ; and the window from which he was let down in 
a basket, from a great height, when only eight days old, to 
escape the destruction intended for him in these violent 
times, by the Scotch Puritans. The view from this window 
is strange and beautiful ; the rock is, at this place, two hun- 
dred and fifty feet high. There is here also a very fine 
portrait of the Queen, that most beautiful woman in the 
world. It indicates a kind of intellectual, affectionate soft- 
ness, dignity, and refinement, one rarely sees in man or 
woman, yet there is warm blood underneath. There is a 
prayer here by Queen Mary, in black letter. I also saw, 
on the top of the castle, the great, barrel-like cannon, Mons 
Meg. It is made of strong iron staves or sections, hooped 
in its entire length. It is thirteen feet long, and has a cali- 
bre of twenty inches. Stone balls were shot from it to a 
distance, it is said, of three miles. The view from the forti- 



EDINBURGH. 199 

fications where Mons Meg is placed, is odc of tlie finest the 
eye ever feasted on. 

To-day I have been over the domain of the great Magi- 
cian. I have been at MelrosC; Dry burgh Abbey, and Ab- 
botsford. I left Edinburgh at seven-and-a-half o'clock, by 
the North British Eailway, and proceeded thirty -seven 
miles, to the village of Melrose, in the centre of which is 
the ancient Abbey, which Sir Walter Scott has rendered 
famous by the beautiful lines so well known. It is a mere 
ruin, roofless and crumbling, and ivy-grown — a place of an- 
cient graves, six hundred years old, with exquisitely carved 
work, some of which yet exists in a perfect state, only 
rendered more haggardly life-like by time. There are 
statues in stone of monks, prophets, apostles, and nuns, and 
singular pieces of ancient carved work, representing vari- 
ous devices — some representing the ivy twining around a 
column ; others, different kinds of vegetation blown about 
by the wind. I noticed a cauliflower, in stone, of most 
marvelous exactness. These sculptors of the old, monkish 
times, must have been imported from Italy ; and some of 
them were, perhaps, priests, who spent their lives on a single 
work. The old guide of the ruins, who had been with Sir 
Walter Scott, spoke Scotch with such intenseness as to be 
almost unintelligible, pointed out every thing, and enlarged 
on the beauties with all the ardor of one expecting a six- 
pence. He showed us the grave of David I., the founder 
of this Abbey, one of the kings of Scotland, who died 
about 1124, and was buried here; also, that of Michael 
Scott, the great Magician of several centuries ago — the slab 
over his body, which was broken in the attempt to get at his 
book of magic which had been buried with him. Some of 
the tombs were of black marble, with old, singular, half- 
obliterated inscriptions and warnings. Jackdaws in great 
numbers flew around the ruin, which the guide said w^ere 
supposed to be the ghosts of the monks that still clung to 



200 EriNBQEGH. 

the ruined habitation, where they had their pleasures of old, 
ere the zealous reformers battered down these Abbeys. He 
showed where Cromweirs cannon had wrought destruction. 
As a ruin, this Abbey is perfect. It seems to have been 
built originally of red stone — but now almost gray — and in 
some places black, and much of it in the embrace of the 
ivy. It is the property oJ^the Duke of Buccleuch, remark- 
able for his wealth — about half a million of dollars per 
annum — and his vices, which are as great in proportion. I 
walked through the corridors and up the stone stairway, 
and looked at the clearly and sharply-cut carvings — the 
windows arched and ornamented — and the loveliness of the 
whole pile of intellectual stone was superb in that clear, 
autumn air. The gratitude of the guide was greatly 
excited by a shilling, and I departed in a cab, which I 
hired, to Dryburgh Abbey, four miles further along the 
Tweed. Much of the scenery was very beautiful. The 
three Eildon hills were on the right, in their garment of 
heath, and the Tweed raved on the left. The hedges gave 
place to strong stone fences. I passed several old villages 
with their ivy-grown walls. The hills and vales seemed to 
be rich and finely cultivated. Leaving the carriage, I was 
ferried over the Tweed, and a short walk, following the di- 
rections on several guide-boards, importing " To the Euins 
of Dryburgh Abbey," conducted me to a small lodge, or 
cottage, where a placard informed me the keys of the Abbey 
were kept. A bonnie Scotch lassie — quite pretty, but rather 
plump — now came out, and led me through a park, or 
orchard; and after following her some time under the trees, 
through the park, I came upon the most extensive and 
mournful ruin I have yet seen, except that of Heidelburg. 
All was genius, destruction, and ruin. This Abbey is seven 
hundred years old. At one side stands a yew tree, which 
my guide said is supposed to be as old as the Abbey. It is 
green and beautiful in its fadeless verdure ; but the Abbey 



EDINBURGH. 201 

moulders. We walked through the ruin, saw its fallen 
down gateways, its dungeons, its broken statues, its urns — 
once supposed to have belonged to the Druids. Trees had 
grown among and on the walls, instead of their old -adorn- 
ments of pillars. I never saw the ivy so luxuriant any- 
where. The old Abbot's graves were all around, with their 
effigies crumbling. The old Abbeys seem to have consisted, 
generally, of a central and beautiful church, in the form of 
a cross, and to it were attached buildings for the monks — 
dormitories, cells, refectories — corridors and cloisters for the 
monks to walk in, read and exercise, and also teach schools 
in. Doubtless, they all deserve decay. At length we 
stopped in a chapel, yet retaining part of its stone roof, and 
stood before three graves, with monuments of red granite, 
plain and strikingly simple. The ruin had come home to 
the ruins, and slept among them. They were the graves of 
Sir Walter Scott, his wife, and only son. Here rests a man 
not inferior to Shakspeare, and consequently superior to all 
the rest of the world, in the true delineation of character. 
As people will read novels, they had better have good ones, 
and those of Sir Walter Scott are creations of historical 
human nature. The scene is most suitable and solemn. 
Let him rest here on the Border, and let the pile crumble 
about him. His genius, and its great gifts to mankind, 
have more immortality than the walls that number centu- 
ries of age. But we retrace our steps. Here are hedges of 
the box-wood grown into trees, inside the church, and the 
monks moulder away beneath the now nameless stones, de- 
spite their whole array of stone-sculpture, saints, and epi- 
taphs. Returning, we pass near the mansion of the present 
Earl of Buchan, the Abbey belonging to a part of his 
ancestral domains. We give the Scotch lassie the expected 
fee, and return to Melrose. Our guide made a most serious 
error in chronology, by informing us that a beautiful monu- 
ment in sight, on the banks of the Tweed, was erected to 



202 EDINBUEaH. 

Sir William Wallace; " wlio fell in tbe battle of Waterloo." 
We now visited Abbotsford^ three miles from Melrose, in 
the opposite direction. Arriving near it, we turn down a 
road between walls, and all at once Abbotsford, that 
" romance in stone," with its gardens, its walls, trees, ter- 
races, and the Tweed flowing through a meadow, came in 
sight. It is the shrine of genius. The family being absent 
in the Highlands, the house is, on certain days, open to the 
public. An old woman, one of the domestics, authorized 
to show the house, is reading, in a small apartment in 
which the path terminates, ''Peveril of the Peak." The 
building itself is Gothic, and is a sort of Mosaic of Scott's 
favored memories, having in one place a carved stone, from 
Melrose Abbey ; in another, one from some old castle ; in 
another, a chimuey-piece, an arch of a window, or some- 
thing of the kind, from other places — so that it is a memento 
of many ruins, and of much history. We were shown into 
Scott's armory, abounding in all sorts of armor — some used 
by Bruce, AYallace, and others — presents to Scott. There were 
several large two-handed swords — relics of many old heroes 
and battles — all full of traditional history. In the midst of 
this, an Englishman who accompanied me, demanded to 
know how much this house cost — whether it could not have 
been built for thirty-five thousand pounds ? I could have 
flayed him alive on the spot, and roasted him as a barbecue. 
Sir Walter Scott had but to retire into this room, and be 
with the most striking reminders of those persons and times 
that he writes about. We were now shown into his study, 
where he wrote those immortal works. It is ^' as in his 
time," according to the old woman. Here is his chair, his 
writing-desk ; here are his books, and many presents made 
to him by those whom his works had delighted. A chair 
we noticed most beautifully carved, made from the wood of 
the chair on which Sir William Wallace "was done to 
death, by felon hand." The next room is a large library 



EDINBUEGH. 203 

with some twenty thousand volumes, containing also many 
fine presents. There was an immense writiDg-desk of 
ebony, which, with six ebony chairs, were presented to 
Scott by King George lY. Also, an Album, which had 
belonged to Napoleon. Some fine busts are also here, by 
Chantrey ; a fine one of Scott, and one of Wordsworth ; a 
striking picture of the head of Mary Queen of Scots in a 
charger; also, a full-length portrait of Scott's only son, 
who died a few years ago, returning from India, and with 
whom died the title conferred by George IV. on Scott, there 
being no male descendant to inherit it. The house and 
grounds belong to Mr. Hope Scott, a wealthy barrister-at- 
law, who married a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart — 
the latter a daughter of Sir Walter. There are about fif- 
teen hundred acres in the plantation, five hundred of which 
are in cultivation, the rest in woods and ornamental 
grounds. On the side next to the Tweed the views are fine, 
comprising a full view of that river, to which you descend 
by a terraced hill, and then cross a fine meadow in which 
the mowers are at present at w^ork. There are also 
meadows beyond the river, and then there are the Eske 
hills. The produce of the estate is in oats, barley, beets, 
turnips, hay, and is said not amount to more than five 
thousand dollars, which scarcely pays the expense of keep- 
ing up so large a house. The hedges around the house are 
of blackthorn and holly ; the latter is particularly fine. The 
house is not built on any regular plan, or style, and thus is 
interesting on account of its irregularity — and the stones 
built into the walls taken from various ruins — thus render- 
ing the walls chronicles of the predominant tastes of Scott. 
Here he died in 1832, of partial paralysis, induced by his 
superhuman intellectual exertions to pay off the indebted- 
ness he had contracted as partner of a publishing house, 
which became bankrupt. It is said, in the two years after 
1827, he, by the sale of his "Life of Napoleon," and other 



204 EDINBURGH. 

works, paid to liis creditors the sum of two hundred thou- 
sand dollars. After his death, the debts were all paid. But 
Abbotsford itself would have been sacrificed, but for the 
liberality of his creditors, who settled it on his descendants. 
So that the fortune realized by the sale of his works, and 
the title also, are both gone. Scott had sought to restore 
his health in the mild climate of Italy — a government 
vessel having been chartered to convey him there. How- 
ever, his mind became a wreck while away, and he returned 
to Abbotsford only in time to die. When they brought 
him in, a wandering consciousness returned to him. He 
said, " I begin to be myself again ; I know I am at Abbots- 
ford." He soon died. He was a great, good, kind gentle- 
man. The domestic who attended us, spoke in the most 
affectionate manner of his suavity and kindness to all sorts 
of people. I returned to Edinburgh ; and when I got into 
the double-sided city, perched on two hills, gas-lit and ter- 
raced, with the great Gothic monument of Scott himself 
(his dog by him looking affection), in marble, sitting like a 
white ghost beneath it, between the two cities, I felt that 
the life of Scott was not, after all, a failure, though the 
fortune is gone and the title extinct. 

One of the interesting places in Edinburgh is the Gray 
Friars' Cemetery — the oldest in the city — having numerous 
ancient monuments, where Time and Decay have mocked at 
the efforts of man to perpetuate a name. Some of the 
monuments have been gorgeous and grand, but all is oblit- 
erated now. The American custom, in many places, of plac- 
ing a simple marble grave-stone, is in much better taste, and 
will last longer than these proud, intricate monuments. One 
of the monuments commemorates, in bad poetry, the martyr- 
dom, as they call it, of eighteen thousand Scotch Covenanters. 
In this cemetery are buried the remains of some distin- 
guished Scotch writers — Robertson, the historian; Allan 
Ramsay, the poet — Mackenzie, the author of the " Man of 



STIRLING. 205 

Feeling." In the cemetery near Carlton Hill I saw the 
monument over the remains of David Hume — there being 
evidently more Christian faith in his epitaph than in his 
life. I also visited Leith, the port of Edinburgh, besides 
many other places — the capital of Scotland being really one 
of the most interesting cities we have seen, and famous for 
its literary and charitable institutions, as well as its histori- 
cal associations of the past. 

But we are off again. We are now at 

STIRLING, 

thirty-six miles west of Edinburgh ; which latter place we 
left at four o'clock, passing over a well-cultivated, fertile, 
and beautiful country ; and on our way we saw that great 
battle-field of Scotch history, Bannockburn. The battle 
was fought between King Eobert Bruce and Edward King 
of England, on the 24th of July, 1314, and resulted in the 
defeat of the English. There is shown here a large lime- 
stone, on which the Scotch king planted his standard in 
this battle. Stirling was the ancient capital of the Scotch 
kings, and is one of the oldest historical cities. It has a 
population of about thirteen thousand. It is much asso- 
ciated with the romantic days of Bruce and Wallace, who, 
near seven hundred years ago, fought battles near its walls. 
It has an ancient castle on a rock, three hundred and fifty 
feet high, which is kept in a state of defense, like that of 
Edinburgh. From this castle — which is famous for its past 
history, and also from a high hill in the rear, on which 
executions in old times took place, and near which is at 
present a most gloomy and ancient cemetery — a view is 
obtained of most rare and singular beauty — comprehending 
the fertile vale of the river Forth, which stream makes 
many windings through lovely meadows; the dark, heathery 
Grampian Hills are seen ; those of Ochil, in the distant, 
and romantic Highlands ; the river Forth — the scene is at 

S 



206 ABERDEEN". 

once imposing, picturesque, and splendid. The town has 
some dirty, narrow, ancient streets — others mope modern. 
John Knox's pulpit is shown here. Much of the architec- 
ture here is in the quaint, monastic style. 
But we are now at 

ABERDEEN, 

far in the northeast of Scotland, about latitude 55°. Yet 
the verdure of the fields and woods continues, and the 
weather is nearly as mild as September in the Middle 
States of the Union. We saw the haymakers at work in 
the fields to-day, and many wood wild flowers yet stand up 
in their loveliness. We have come from Stirling by rail- 
way to-day; distant one hundred and thirty-eight miles. 
This is the first city I have ever seen built almost entirely 
of granite, which is here extremely abundant, and of a 
gray, hard, polishable quality. The views to-day have all 
been very interesting. Our way lay along the Yale of 
Strath mere, which lies between the Grampian Hills and the 
sea. The frothy waves of the latter, whitening up to the 
bold, bluff, rocky shore, are seen for many miles, as we 
glided rapidly along in the cars ; and some sails were also 
seen in the misty distance. The slopes and knolls of ground 
were in fine cultivation — grass, turnips, potatoes, beets — 
and the peasants, women as well as men, were profiting by 
the pleasant weather to preserve the produce of their labor. 
Several gloomy, massive, ivy-grown stone ruins, remnants 
of the strong old war-times, were seen, roofless, and much 
of the upper part of the walls fallen, contrasting with the 
modern, tasteful residences of the gentry of the present 
period. We passed through some villages and cities known 
in history, romance, and song — Perth, Montrose, Dundee. 

We have been several days in Aberdeen. It consists of 
Old and New Aberdeen : the former on the Don ; the latter 
on the Dee — near their entrance into the North Sea, about 



SCOTLAND. 207 

a mile and a half apart. Union-street, in New Aberdeen, 
has a handsome appearance. I have seen the tombs of 
George Campbell and James Beattie, both distinguished and 
learned men, who resided here : the latter a good poet ; the 
former wrote a good translation of the Four Gospels. Old 
Aberdeen has a singular and massive old cathedral, destitute 
of ornam.ent and architectural grace; and it is gloomy within 
and without, in consequence of the numerous mouldering 
tombs. The people here have a furor for church-going — 
are generally Presbyterians, which system is established in 
Scotland. They appear to be a good, moral, mercantile sort 
of people — with miserable hotels, however, and many dirty, 
filthy streets, defiling the air with stenches innumerable. 
The sea views here are fine, with the vast, restless waves, 
rolling on the long sand-beach, and the rough, coarse, 
heathery hills near it are wild, beautiful, and romantic. 
Over the Don extends a very old bridge — Bridge of Bal- 
gownie, Balgownie being the name of the laird on whose 
lands it is placed — said to have been constructed by Bruce. 
Byron, who lived here with his mother in his youth, alludes 
to it in "Don Juan:" that when a ^'wife's ane son and a 
mare's own foal pass over, down ye shall fall" — an old 
prophecy concerning it. It is of a single arch, and the 
waters below black as ink — and the whole place very 
dreary. This is near Old Aberdeen. The principal street 
of New Aberdeen is more than a mile long — has high, fine 
granite houses and some large churches on each side of it. 
Other parts of the city are very uneven, the hills being con- 
nected by bridges. There is a castle or garrison of armed 
men ; and the many-colored, many-coated Highland cos- 
tume is very frequently met with in the streets, being worn 
by many admirers and amateurs of ancient manners. 

The language here, as also at Stirling, is strongly Scotch 
in accent and phraseology, and not at first readily appre- 
hended by an American ear. The Queen's summer resi- 



208 SCOTLANI). 

dence, Balmoral, is about forty miles from this, toward the 
source of the Dee. She is expected to be through this city 
this week, on her way to Edinburgh, where she is to remain 
one night at Holyrood Palace, then proceed to London. On 
Wednesday she visits Lord Aberdeen, lately prime minister, 
whose Highland residence is about twenty miles from 
Aberdeen. The Queen is much respected, as one who gov- 
erns her own family well and economically, according as 
economy is practiced among kings ; and nationally she has 
the wisdom not to undertake innovations, but to adopt 
them if insisted on by the people. Her daughters are said 
to be all intelligent. Lady Alice, the second daughter, 
speaks four languages fluently. The eldest son, the Prince 
of Wales, is said to be a dull boy. The government of 
England is essentially an aristocratic one. The monarchy 
would be but a mockery without the concurrence of the 
nobility. Aberdeen has about seventy-two thousand in- 
habitants. 

But we are off again " on our winding way." We left 
Aberdeen at eleven o'clock, by the Great North of Scotland 
Eailway, our course being toward Inverness. We rode 
fifty-three miles to Keith, passing various castles and old 
villages, and Highland residences of the English nobility. 
The Queen is expected to pass this way on Thursday, on a 
visit to the Earl of Aberdeen. As she has not excited our 
curiosity very strongly, we decline stopping a day to see 
her majesty. We saw some fine country in passing, and 
some mountains covered with brown heath. Some of the 
villages looked unprogressive enough, and primitive very, 
with stately, towered castles in ruins. Occasionally we had 
fine views of the North Sea. At Keith the railway ceased, 
when we got into a coach, by which pleasant and rapid 
conveyance we went to Nairn, having fine views of the 
country. We passM through the extensive domains of the 
Duke of Richmond, who inherited the possessions of the 



SLAVERY. 209 

popular Duke of Gordon, having married his daughter ; the 
Duke of Gordon having no male heirs, the title is extinct. 
There is a fine monument in granite to the Duke of Gor- 
don, in the principal square in Aberdeen. The view of the 
ancient Scotch castle, with its high gate in front, is very- 
fine. It is surrounded by park-grounds, from the trees of 
which it rises in turrets and battlements, a thing of old. 
The villages through which we passed, on the Duke's place, 
present an appearance of neatness and cleanliness to which 
other villages which we have seen, are strangers. The 
Duke's extensive grouse-hunting grounds, embracing the 
slope of a heathery mountain, are visible for some miles. 
In these regions many of the peasants have been, during 
the last few years, transported to Canada and other regions, 
to make room for the hunting-grounds and sheep-pastures 
of the nobility. 

" 111 fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, 
Where wealth accumulates and men decay." 

The domains of the Earl of Fife were next entered, where 
the villages are much meaner and the population more 
degraded. The houses were, in general, small, stone, 
thatched cottages, having, in their appearance, some resem- 
blance to American negro quarters, but not so comfortable- 
looking, nor did the inhabitants appear so happy. In one 
of the fields I noticed a gang of twenty-five women, hard 
at work in the fields, when it was nearly dark, with a man 
standing by, apparently an overseer. American slavery 
elevates the subject of it from an inferior to a superior con- 
dition. The slave is many degrees higher — socially, intel- 
lectually, morally, industrially — than his ancestor in Africa, 
but this kind of service perpetuates the degradation of a 
class, who, in intellect and moral endowment, are perhaps 
equal to their masters. This service degrades or continues 
a career of degradation ; but American slavery elevates, by 
14 S2 



210 SLAVERY. 

a practical impartation, bj contact with a superior race, 
who impart civilization to the blacks — -"Christianity in 
return for manual labor. It gives the results of centuries 
of civilization ; all the far reaches of great minds ; all the 
inventions of science ; it places all these within the eventual 
contact of a class, who otherwise had continued mere 
human animals in Africa, insensible to the glorious privi- 
lege of being a man. There is evidently a greater distance 
between the peasants of these soils and the proprietor, than 
there is between the master and his slave. Both' give all 
their labor; the former receives a miserable pittance, called 
his wages, in return, and with it receives contempt, aver- 
sion, neglect — no further attention or interest — all is done 
when he gets his wages ; he may sicken, die it may be, un- 
cared for ; the duty of the master is done when ten cents a 
day, and less to women, are paid. The slave receives no 
immediate or stipulated or nominal wages, but gets protec- 
tion, interested care, and familiar, kindly, benevolent support 
in old age, infancy, sickness. His wants are all provided 
and guaranteed to him. He has no thought for the mor- 
row; what mind he has is free — free from the tyrants of 
want, debt, apprehension, poverty; for no slave can be a 
poor man — having an assurance of an abundant support, no 
matter what may befall his master — who, if unable to keep 
him, disposes of his right to his labor to another who can 
keep him. He never can have any annoyance or uneasiness 
about support for wife or child. His condition is the natu- 
ral relation of a superior and inferior race, when in contact, 
where both have found their level according to laws impressed 
on their being. The system here is a political situation, 
where two classes, inherently equal, are constrained by cir- 
cumstances to exist in a condition foreign to the entire 
nature of the one party, and only in harmony with the 
worse part of the nature of the other. Some of our Ameri- 
can editors who have for their stock in trade one fanatical 



SLAVEKY. 211 

idea; officious intermeddlers Jin the laws of other States ; 
unprincipled politicians willing to get astride any idea, and 
who have no rule of right or wrong, except the fleeting, 
hasty opinion of the uninformed: to say nothing of down- 
right abolitionists, who are the proper subjects of astonish- 
ment and pity only ; others whose real goodness and 
benevolence of heart, magnify slavery into untold horrors — 
All these would do well to see in that system a progressive 
and natural civilization and amelioration of a race which, 
in two thousand years of trial, have shown themselves 
insusceptible of improvement by any other means. Whereas 
the European first, second, and third-class caste system of 
individuals of the same race, separated by mutual aversion, 
is an unnatural system, which can only continue by grind- 
ing down the inferior till he become the moral and mental 
slave of the superior — a despotism more degrading than 
the physical servitude of the South. The contact of the 
white and black races, elevates and improves the latter, 
when in a state of slavery only ; the contact of those races 
in the North, does not improve the negro. A kind of com- 
pulsory interest is felt for him by the master, when he is 
his property. The distance between the great lord of the 
manor, or the elegant and refined lady of the boudoir, and 
the serfs on the soil, is so great, that an approximation is 
regarded with horror on one side, and with cringing, 
hypocritical sycophancy on the other. The slave has an 
interest in his master, as the latter has also an interest in 
him ; there is a bridge of ownership, only repugnant in 
name, on which both may meet; in the English system 
there is no place of meeting, nothing in common, nothing 
but rack-rent. But this is rather a digression. 

After some miles, we entered the obscure, old-fashioned 
Scotch town of Elgin, from which Lord Elgin derives his 
title. He is understood to be a poor lord, who engages in 
diplomacy, accepts foreign embassies, governor-general- 



212 INVEKNESS. 

ships — a kind of graceful condescension on the part of 
those whose acres are insufficient — practiced in other lands, 
not a thousand miles from the Federal City — whereby the 
government receives their elegant attention and delibera- 
tion for a consideration. There is here a very ancient ruin, 
formerly a Catholic priory. It is within five miles of the 
North Sea, near the mouth of the river Lossie. Further 
on, we come upon the reputed scenes of parts of Shak- 
speare's "Macbeth," the town and Castle of Forres; the 
place where Macbeth is supposed to have met the weird 
sisters on the blasted heath near the sea ; and also the castle 
in which King Duncan was murdered. The scene is of the 
strange, somewhat dreary, dreamy order; surging waves, 
bare, bald rocks, Scotch Highlands on the left, heathery 
hills ; furze, carse, moor. In this region there are many 
^curious, ancient, sometimes rudely-carved stones, called 
Druid stones, on some of which they are supposed to have 
.offered human sacrifices. They have in them little channels 
to collect the blood. There are stone piles or pillars, com- 
memorating treaties with the Danes. We soon reached 
ISTairn, where the railway is resumed, and we soon arrived 
at 

INVERNESS, 

seventeen miles further, the capital of the Highlands, in the 
back and north of Scotland. It is situated on Moray Frith, 
an inlet from the North Sea, and also on the beautiful little 
river Ness. This is the limit of our excursion north — being 
about latitude 5T°. Around are mountains, from some of 
which are fine views. It is a lone region in the rear of 
Scotland's Highlands, yet it is the scene of many inci- 
dents in the real history of — and also in the shadows of 
history — romance. There are about twelve thousand in- 
habitants. 

It has a good old Castle, picturesquely situated, on a high 



CULLODEN MOOR. 213 

rock, near the river; houses in which Cromwell, Duke of 
Cumberland, and Charles Stuart, the Pretender, lodged ; a 
Tolbooth or prison, in front of which is a stone called Clach- 
na-Cudden — a Druid stone, on which, in their solemn, fear- 
ful rites, they sacrificed human beings ; the channels in the 
stone, made to receive and collect the blood, still remain. 
The history of all the horrors of this stone is mute as that 
of an Indian mound in America, and very properly so. 
The world can very well spare the dark, lost, ghostly legends 
of Rhine Castles, the horrors of secret inquisitorial tribunals, 
and the miserable details of Druidical superstition. This 
place was formerly noted for its smuggling. 

To-day I visited the celebrated battle-field — that of Cul- 
loden — about five miles from Inverness, on a desolate moor, 
nearly level, and admirably calculated for military evolu- 
tions. The views around are lovely in the extreme. East, 
rises a most desolate-looking, barren, heath-covered moun- 
tain slope, to which the Pretender's army fled, after the 
battle in which he lost his kingdom and crown. "West, is 
the Frith of Moray, extending till it is lost in the distant, 
dim, cloudy North Sea, and heaven. It has numerous inlets 
retiring among mountains — little playthings of water — as 
if tired of a sea life, they had came out to look up and 
reflect about sunny mountain sides, and set up for a sea of 
their own. There are villages on the banks of the Firth, 
and two forts — one on an island, which protects the approach 
to Inverness. There is Lake Beaulv, a beautiful sheet of 
water among the hills, connected to the Firth by a strait. 
On its banks is the seat of Lord Lovat. But beyond the 
Firth or Frith, and all around toward the West, rise the 
great, diversified, and peaked Highlands, with vales innu- 
merable. The long and narrow ones are Glens, the wider 
ones Straths. I counted near one hundred distinct peakvS, 
of most picturesque shapes. On the moor where the young 
Pretender, Charles Edward, stood, is a vast heap of stones, 



214 CULLODEN MOOR. 

called Culloden Cairn, said to have been, formerly, one 
hundred feet high, now about twenty. There is a large, 
circular, turf wall, inside of which is a trench, in which the 
killed were buried, and outside of which is a circle of pine 
trees. The battle was fought on the 16th of May, 1746. It 
is magnificently described by Campbell in "Lochiel's Warn- 
ing." The young Pretender, after this defeat, died at Eome 
in 1788. His brother, who assumed the plain name of 
Henry Benedict, and was made Cardinal of York, being the 
last male of the royal house of Stuart, died also at Eome, 
in 1807. The present representative of the Stuarts is 
Francis, hereditary Prince of Modena. Parts of their 
bodies repose under the dome of St. Peter's Church, at 
Eome. On this field, Catholicism and the Stuarts were for- 
ever expelled from England, Protestantism and the heirs 
of the Orange family firmly established to the present time. 
The young Pretender was, to a great extent, ignorant of the 
art of war ; or, at any rate, no match for the Duke of Cum- 
berland, who led the army of the Protestants. The High- 
landers, who were very good adherents to the Stuarts, 
fought with gallantry. On the moor are several of the 
miserable stone and turf huts of the Scotch peasants. The 
inmate of one of these, a young man, showed me some 
bullets, plowed out of the ground ; also, a map of the field 
of battle. But my attention soon left the battle-field of 
Culloden, and became fixed on the miserable dwelling and 
the degraded, poor man before me. The cabin was very 
low, built partly of stone, and roofed with turf, and looked 
truly like an earth-hovel. The floor was of bare ground, 
and every thing within looked utterly cheerless and comfort- 
less. Many negro cabins are palaces compared to it ; and 
there were many similar ones scattered over the desert 
moor, whose dwellers extract a scanty support from the thin 
soil, for which they pay a pound, or /ive dollars, rent per 
acre. The peasants — in cheerfulness, apparent happiness, 



SCOTLAND. 215 

intelligence, and capability to return intelligent answers — 
seem far below the generality of negroes. The negro is 
happy, careless, and indifferent to the fature. He has no 
provision to make for himself At worst, he has but inces- 
sant toil. These have incessant toil, and all the anxiety of 
the future of self-providing superadded. The negro is 
always a large child, careless about the future, and confident 
in it. America seems to these -people a kind of far-off' 
blessing, not intended for them ; they have not the means, 
or the energy, to go there. 

There is a splendid mansion, the property of the Laird 
of Culloden, proprietor of these grounds. Forbes is the 
family name of the Laird. It has parks, lawns, flowers, 
gardens, and the usual accompaniments of elegance and 
wealth. In it Prince Charles rested the night before his 
unfortunate battle. 

We are now, this evening, October 14th, at Oban, an 
almost classic spot, in the midst of the Scotch Highlands. 
It is small, Scotch, romantic, and remote, with many lakes 
near it, such as Loch Aven, Loch Oyle, and most irregular 
and picturesque mountains around, heathery and rocky. 
Around this was the home of Lochiel, whose family name 
was Cameron. Here might the muser and dreamer muse 
and dream for many a day, amidst scenery infinitely varied, 
bleak, bare, and almost grand as Switzerland — lakes with 
lovely, soft names — glens, wild, savage, and sweet — castles, 
old, ruinous, legendary. 

We left Inverness this morning, at seven o'clock, in a 
pretty little steamer, to navigate the Caledonian Canal, and 
the lakes which it connects, toward Glasgow. This is a 
celebrated route ; but, unfortunately, a Scotch mist and rain 
enviously shrouded many of the beauties from our view, or 
patched the mountains over with ragged shawls of semi- 
transparent exhalations. The lakes are long, narrow, and 
deep. From Inverness, a canal leads into Loch Ness, then 



,216 SCOTLAND. 

into Loch Oich, then into Locli Lochy, then into Loch 
Linhee. Those who are courageous enough to undertake 
the pronunciation of these names, had better first have their 
jaws insured. The water in them is almost black, and on 
each side rise high mountains, bleak, bare, rocky, mossy, 
and covered with a thin, brown grass. Some are almost 
sublime in their long and regular slopes. We passed Ben 
Nevis, the highest mountain in Great Britain — four thou- 
sand four hundred and ninety feet high. We saw some 
white, cloth-looking snow fields far up, and near his sum- 
mit. The glens, leading up from the lakes, looked won- 
drously green and lovely. We saw the walls of several 
strong old castles that " seemed only not to fall," and the 
Captain told horrid stories of the Earls of Glengarry, 
Lochiel, and other strong, old marauders, hating and war- 
ring against each other. One of these narratives was too 
horrid to be made the capital stock-in-trade of a night- 
mare manufactory. The scenes along these lakes are more 
bleak and stern than those of Switzerland, but not so varied 
and beautiful. In Switzerland, the lake water is a deep 
blue, and the lower parts of the mountains there are ren- 
dered fresh and verdant-looking by the vine; the higher 
parts have the more useful grains and grapes, while their 
tops rest in snows and glaciers, like youth, middle, prime, 
and hoary age, all united in the same. Long reaches of 
brown mountain slopes, almost bare, but yet on which a few 
sheep were grazing; and some water-falls, but none like 
those of Switzerland, and such scenery beheld at the close 
of a fine day in Autumn, is well calculated to. excite those 
legendary impersonations with which Scott has fascinated 
the world. 

We are now in Glasgow, the fourth city in size in the 
British Islands, containing three hundred and fifty thousand 
busy, commercial, cotton-manufacturing inhabitants. We 
staid at Oban, in the heart of the Highlands, last night. It 



SCOTLAND. 217 

is on a pretty little bay, an indentation of one of the lakes. 
We left it this morning in the steamer, and came down the 
long, narrow, canal-connected lakes, barricaded by lofty 
mountains, around which floated the dim drapery of the 
mists. The country appeared wild, desolate, remote, and 
old — heath, and moor, and Scotch villages alternating in the 
landscape — long, bare ridges of rocks, against which the 
deep waters war in vain— all sad-looking in their realms of 
vastness. The whole western coast of Scotland is a region 
of lakes and numerous indentations of the Atlantic — of 
roughness, barrenness, and remote majesty. In some places 
we emerged into the Atlantic, and saw its boundless, play- 
ful waves ; some of which, in far distance, wash the shores 
of our own native land. The Isles of Skye, of Mull, Jura 
and Islay were on our right. On some of the rocky points 
are small villages, whose inhabitants are engaged in manu- 
facturing slates. Scott's "Lord of the Isles" and some of 
the wild weird descriptions of Ossian have their scenes on 
this coast. We had quite a number of the Scotch nobility 
on the steamer, returning from a summer visit to their 
friends who have seats in the Highlands. Others had been 
grouse-shooting and deer-stalking; others were tourists 
generally. Lord B., who married a daughter of the Duke 
of S., was on board with his family. By the Caledonian 
Canal we entered Loch Fine. Then, by the Kyles-of Bute, 
with most enchanting scenery on each shore, re-entered the 
Frith of Clyde. The blazing red of the night sky — several 
immensely tall chimneys of manufactories and chemical 
works — revealed our proximity to a large city; and at 
length, after passing the strong, rock-built Castle of Dum- 
barton, of great strength and antiquity, and famous in his- 
tory, we ascend the river Clyde, and moor our vessel in 
the harbor of Glasgow. The season being rather late, 
though the weather is yet warm, we postpone a trip we 

T 



218 GLASGOW. 

intended to make to tlie islands of Skye and also to Staffa. 
and Jura. 

GLASGOW 

we have rested several days. It is truly a large business 
mart; but is not a very interesting city to the general 
tourist. The West End, like that part of London, is the 
residence of the wealthy and noble families ; and the West 
End Park, with its numerous terraces, into which a sloping 
hill has been cut, together v/ith Kelvin Grove and Kelvin 
Kiver, included now in the Park, are all truly beautiful; 
and it is not to be wondered that the Scotch laddie sang to 
his lassie, " Let us haste to Kelvin Grove," for all the scenes 
and surroundings are of the soft, agreeable, and pleasant 
character. Glasgow has a large, ancient, and glorious pile 
of stone — a Gothic cathedral of the twelfth century. It has 
very high, massive pillars, internally — no paintings, how- 
ever, or statuary, like the continental Catholic churches. 
Doubtless it once had them ; but since the Eeformation it 
has been converted to the use of the Protestant service. 
It has some monuments to the dead ; and its large yard is 
almost paved with flat slab stones, telling for a few years 
the names or virtues of those who moillder away below. 
Underneath the cathedral are several crypts — gloomy, 
grand, and impressive — with graves and haunted-looking- 
like aisles and recesses, through which the dim light hovers 
like a dangling shadow. Near the cathedral, on a hill, is 
the populous many-monuraented Necropolis — the principal 
burying-place. It is a sad place — full of death, departed 
affections, and hopeful regrets. There is a fine monument 
here to that stern, uncompromising, useful, able man, John 
Knox, who is deservedly a great favorite in all Scotland. 
He was the man for the times, the occasion, and the work. 
In Edinburgh I saw the room in which he is said to have 
held an interview with Queen Mary, (at her request,) and 



GLASGOW. 219 

to have threatened her Avith damnation if she did not 
repent. The Scotch are probably the most moral, church- 
going people in the world. They take the terror side of 
religion. Like the PuritanS; they would 

" Hang the cat on Monday 
For killing mice on Sunday." 

I attended church three times on Sunday — found their 
large meeting-houses crowded — many being unable to get 
admission. The attention was very good ; and one of the 
discourses, by Dr. McLeod, at the Barony Church, was most 
able and eloquent, but somewhat encumbered with compari- 
sons. Glasgow has about three hundred and fifty thousand 
inhabitants. The motto of the city is, ^'Let Glasgow flourish 
by the preaching of the Word." It was founded about the 
year J 200. The great battle of Longside, which proved so 
adverse to Queen Mary, was fought a mile and a half from 
the city. The queen's army of six thousand strong was 
defeated by the superior generalship of the Eegent Murray, 
who had only four thousand. The commercial prosperity 
of Glasgow is dated from its embarking in the Virginia 
tobacco trade, and since then the manufacture of cotton. It 
is said to consume forty-five million pounds of cotton. In 
steamboat and ship-building it is largely engaged. The 
"Persia" was built here. There are great iron mines near 
Glasgow. Buchanan, Argyle and Queen-streets are splen- 
did thoroughfares. Some of the streets leading from High- 
street have most dingy and antique tenements, now the 
abodes of squalid raggedness, wretchedness and vice. 
George Square (in front of our hotel — the George Hotel — 
a good one) has monuments to Sir Walter Scott, Sir John 
Moore, and James Watt. One place in the old city, called 
Eotten Kow, looks as if it well deserved its name. The 
The chimney of the St. Eollox Chemical Works is four 
hundred and fifty feet high. Sanchie Hall street, in the 



220 BURNS. 

West End, is a magnificent promenade. The Broomielaw 
is also an interesting street. Glasgow has numerous docks. 
Its harbor is almost entirely artificial. Many of its bridges 
over the Clyde are noble structures. 

We left Glasgow on Tuesday, October" 20th, at half-past 
tell o'clock, for Ireland, taking in our route, Ayrshire, the 
classic land of Burns, passing through Paisley and other 
manufacturing places. We reached Ayr, on the banks of 
the Ayr Eiver^ about forty miles from Glasgow. In the car 
in which I was seated with my friend, were seven or eight 
persons, one of whom began a game with cards, in which 
all the persons joined except my friend and myself. Pres- 
ently, in a remote part of the route, the cars stopped, and 
the conductor, with scarcely a word of explanation, sum- 
marily ejected them all; the cars moved on; there was 
much cursing, and, wdthout doubt, considerable bitterness 
of feeling on the part of those left behind, judging from 
the noise made. It proved, however, that gambling and 
Scotch railways could not go on together. Ayr is a small, 
old-looking place, the inhabitants being quaint-looking and 
decidedly strongly grounded in their own peculiarities. It 
was a /azV-day, and the streets were crowded by persons 
from the country. I understood servants are hired and 
contracts made each half-year, and this was one of those 
occasions. The population of the place is about seventeen 
thousand. Burns is well remembered here. If you stop 
and talk with any old man, he will repeat to you some 
of his poetry from Tam O'Shanter, or other pieces — Burns' 
poetry being so easily recollected and so naturally arranged. 
But the young know but little about him, though his por- 
trait adorns almost every public place. A. heaven-descended 
star of genius came into this town and lost itself amidst its 
mud and filth, in the person of Burns. The "twa brigs" 
over the Ayr are here yet. You walk across them, think- 
ing of the poem Avhich has immortalized them to all ages. 



BURNS. 221 

The old one is quite narrow. On it sit several beggars — 
old, blind, ragged — muttering blessings on any passer-by 
who bestows a half-penny in her small, covered tin cup, with 
an aperture for the money to be put into. You put into it 
a sixpence, an incredible amount for her. She is blind and 
can neither see nor find it. The crowd of ragged children 
around her say: "0, grannie, you have a sixpence!" She 
says: "jSTo, no, only half-pennies are for the likes of her!" 
She finds it, and puts it into her mouth for safe keeping. 
It has given her more pleasure than a donation of a thou- 
sand pounds would give some persons. She is happy for 
that day, and it is a day to be referred to in the future, 
"God's blessing be on ye, and mine too be on ye, whoever 
ye be, though I can never see ye!" she mutters. The Ayr 
here becomes the " lengthened, tumbling sea" of which 
Burns speaks. But we hire a cab and proceed to the 
cottage birthplace of Burns, three miles from Ayr. The 
country is beautiful, well cultivated, with numerous small 
fields enclosed by whitethorn hedges, and the whole slopes 
to the Irish Sea, which is near, and presents its white waves 
breaking on the shore, and its beyond of invisible distance. 
But here is a low, one-story, straw, thatched, clay and 
stone cottage, two rooms of which are in use for retailing 
liquors, and the third is in use as a stable. A placard in 
front informs you that here Robert Burns, the Ayrshire 
Poet, was born, January 25th, 1759. You enter, and look 
upon the early home of Burns. Here is a nook in which 
stands a bed now, not the one on which he was born, but 
which occupies its place. The old lady, who keeps the 
shop or beer saloon neat and clean, shows you the locali- 
ties, and you write your name in the visitors' book,. where 
you see the names of many Americans. You drink some 
ale, and you look at the capacious fire-place, around which 
sat Burns when a boy, and you think of the earnest, poor, 
unfortunate, too much tempted, and genius-gifted Scotch 

t2 



222 BURNS. 

poet, whom his countrymen admired, courted, were proud 
of, considered as an ornament and honor to their country, 
and made an exciseman of him ; after his death and ruin, 
built monuments all over the country to him, one-half of 
the expense of which would have placed above the reach 
of misfortune him whom they starved while living. The 
diamond was lost in the dirt of the dunghill, where it was as 
a lost star. Scott was honored, courted, knighted, enjoyed, 
at one time, an income of £13,000 per annum ; he failed in 
business ; he was honest, and undertook to pay the debt 
with the hard-wrung blood of his brain; he failed in this; 
his creditors settled the estate of Abbotsford on him and 
his heirs. Scott was not the equal of Burns in natural 
genius. Scott had fortune, genius, position, family, blood. 
Burns was a plowman, yet " half dirt, half deity." But is 
there not as much immortality in "Highland Mary," as in 
"Ivanhoc"? as much in "Tarn O' Shanter," "To Mary 
in Heaven," the " Cotter's Saturday Night," as in " Guy 
Mannering," "Waverley," or "Rob lioy"? A little fur- 
ther on the road, stands the old church, " Kirk Alloway," 
"the haunted kirk." It is roofless; all the wood* work is 
gone; the strong, thick, old walls, with the old bell, the 
home of the iron door, these are here yet. It is divided by 
a wall into two apartments, each of which is tenanted by a 
single grave, with moss-grown monuments above them. 
Around, in the small, old church-yard, are many graves, 
among them those of Burns' father and mother — the stone 
erected' by Burns, the epitaph also by him. The old sexton, 
more than eighty years old, leans on his staff and explains, 
in almost unintelligiblle Gaelic, the various scenes around. 
This is the scene of T^im O'Shanter's witch dance, so 
strangely and horribly described by Burns. Still further 
on, is a small eminence, all beautified by rich and rare 
flowers, shrubs, and gravel-walks, surrounded by an ivy- 
grown wall. You are admitted through the gate by the 



BURNS. 223 

gardener, and you walk to the centre of the garden, where 
you find Burns' monument. It is a neat and chaste temple, 
in the Corinthian style. Burns is not buried here, but at 
Dumfries, where he died. In a glass case you see the 
Bible he presented to " Highland Mary," who was the 
daughter of the dairyman of Montgomery Castle, and 
Burns' first love. She died young; the lines to "Mary in 
Heaven," arc to her. There are some Scripture verses 
"written on the fly-leaves, in the handwriting of Burns. 
There are other mementos of her here. You are now in 
sight of the great, old, disused, ivy-grown bridge of Bonny 
Doon. You walk over it, and you rove by the banks of 
the sweet and quiet little river. The bridge is more than 
six hundred years old. It is an admirable place to go to 
for quiet converse with one's own spirit. The ivy covers 
the two sides of the bridge from one end to the other. You 
pluck a few leaves of the ivy, and you carry away from the 
monument, a fresh and beautiful "rose of Alloway," as me- 
mentos. The scenery around is truly beautiful; the sea; a 
frowning, old, knightly castle, whose walls have for ages 
been looking into it; the well-cultivated grounds and gar- 
dens, all doubtless contributed to fan the flame of poetic 
fervor with which Burns was blessed, or rather cursed — for 
had the Ayrshire plowman had no such guest in his soul 
as genius, he had doubtless been more blest, or perhaps 
more dully happy. But if the lightning sometimes scorches 
and kills, yet how brilliantly beautiful it is ; and if genius 
renders its possessor unhappy, yet what a glory and a 
grandeur it can give and create ! Though it dies, it dies in 
light and beauty. Not far from this, resides the sister of 
Burns. I called on her. She is past eighty. Burns was 
thirteen years her senior. She, however, looks well, and 
converses well. She resides with her daughter. I told her 
I was happy to take the sister of Kobert Burns by the 
hand — that he was highly appreciated in America. She 



224 IRELAND — BELFAST. 

seemed pleased ; said many Americans called on lier, more 
than of the English. She spoke of her brother; said he 
was always strange — not like other people — but very kind 
in his disposition : showed me some of his hand- writing in 
the poem the " Cotter's Saturday Kight," which she said 
described her father and his family. It is certainly true 
that genius is more appreciated in America than anywhere 
else. Burns, Tom Moore, Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott, 
Charles Dickens, are perhaps more read in America than in 
their own countries. After a short interview with the old 
lady in her pretty, neat, quiet place, by the sea-side, we 
departed by railway to the port of Ardrossan, some twenty 
or thirty miles up the coast toward Glasgow, where, at one 
o'clock at night, we started on the steamer across the Irish 
Sea. The night was pleasant for crossing; and the huge 
sea-rock — ''Ailsa Craig" — the coast of Scotland, with its 
numerous glaring iron- works and furnaces on the coast, 
soon faded from view under the sea, and we set foot on Ire- 
land, at Belfast, this morning at seven o'clock. 

BELFAST 

is a new, pleasant, and flourishing city. The morning is 
clear and delicious, but somewhat cool, and the dying sum- 
mer smiles mournfully as the glistening, dried leaves fall 
around. Yet the general appearance of the country and 
the fields is worthy the reputation of ''Green Erin." In 
walking through these wide, splendid, busy streets, I have 
visited the Botanic Gardens — a grand display of the beauties 
and glories of the kingdom of plants — many of them in full 
bloom, soon, however, to struggle and die in the cold em- 
brace of winter, and pine away in the absence of their sun- 
father. The walks and grounds are in excellent taste, very 
extensive, and exhibiting great variety — many specimens 
of plants being from other parts of the world ; some from 
South America, than which no region appears more diversi- 



BELFAST. 225 

fied in its botany. All of the grounds are gracefully inter- 
spersed with the quiet; grand, aristocratic-looking Irish 
yew, appearing dark and thoughtful, like an aged harper, 
whose thoughts were of the olden time. The principal 
conservatory is of iron, with arched roof. The arbutus and 
cypress are here together, with a fine collection of all varie- 
ties of wild flowers found in the British dominions, and all 
the varieties of heaths found in the Irish bogs. I also 
visited Queen's College, the building of w^hich is in excel- 
lent style, there being a judicious arrangement of brick, 
bright and red, and polished stone. The officers are very 
courteous ; rooms spacious — some have paintings in them ; 
and the Museum contains many objects of interest to the 
medical student and the man of general research. I visited 
also, to-day, one of those institutions from which Belfast 
derives her glory and prosperity — the flax mills of Messrs. 
Mulholland, one of the most extensive manufactories in the 
kingdom, employing fifteen hundred hands, principally 
girls. The scene is almost terrific — machinery, steam; 
pretty, delicate, pale-looking young girls; old, horrid, and 
hateful hags ; spindles, noises — all more like a fevered dream 
than a fact. The women get wages ridiculously small; 
scarce a dime a day, reminding one of Hood's " Song of the 
Shirt." 

*' God ! that bread should be so dear, 
And flesh and blood so cheap !" 

It is said they have generally five hundred thousand dollars' 
worth of flax in course of manipulation. The business is 
conducted with the utmost regularity and system, each room 
having a distinct department of the process. Belfast is 
situated on territory belonging to the Marquis of Donegal, 
to whom nearly all the town belongs, it having been granted 
to his ancestor, Sir A. Chichester, in 1612, when an incon- 
siderable place. Lord Donegal's income from it is estimated 
at one million dollars per annum. In 1821 the population 
15 



226 lEELAND. 

was only thirty-seven thousand. It is now over one "hundred 
thousand ; so that other towns increase rapidly in popula- 
tion as well as some of our American ones. It is on the 
Kiver Lagan, just before it flows into Belfast Lough, an 
elongated bay. Much of the harbor is artificial. In Amer- 
ica we rely too much on Nature to furnish us with harbors. 
The difficulties of the port of New Orleans and other places 
are not to be compared to those at Havre, Antwerp, Glas- 
gow, Belfast, and other places, which have all been overcome 
by the erection of splendid docks and wharves. 

We left Belfast, to-day, at six o'clock, by rail, proceeding 
toward the north of Ireland, passing many towns, and 
Lough Neagh, the largest lake in the three kingdoms, full 
of legends, and with buried cities under its waves ; which, 
according to Tom Moore, are seen by the fisherman when 
he strays in certain magical moments. We saw it lying 
darkly under a dim fog. The shores around it are boggy. 
Stumps of trees and pieces of timber falling into it become 
petrified. Moore sjDeaks of the ^' round towers of other 
days" seen in it. Not far from it is the castle of the 
O'Neills, now a ruin, only haunted by the banshee, whose 
wails may be heard when any of the O'Neills die. The line 
will soon be extinct, as there only now remain the old peer 
and his brother, both old and unmarried. Their coat of 
arms is a bloody hand, from a tradition that the first O'Neill 
was one of a company whose leader promised the province 
of Ulster to whoever first touched the land. O'Neill seeing 
another boat ahead of his, took a sword, cut off his left 
hand, and threw it ashore. There is a tradition also to 
account for the lake. How that there was once here a deep 
well, the mouth of which was never to be left uncovered. 
How a woman, having left her child at home, and wishing 
to return hastily, left the well uncovered : whereupon it 
rose and drowned all the countr}^ and villages. The coun- 
try around is in general well cultivated, farmed in potatoes 



giant's causeway. 227 

and kitchen vegetables. We arrived at Portrusli, situated 
near tlie sea, and hired an Irish jaunting car to convey ns 
seven miles farther to the Giant's Causewav. The Irish 
jannting car is an unutterable unique. Nothing on earth 
shall induce us either to praise or dispraise it. The secret 
of its ways, its conduct, and its peculiarities, must remain 
unknown to pen, and paper, and people. The road lies 
along the bold and strikingly romantic northern coast of 
Ireland — one of the most interesting places, geologically, in 
Europe. The sea or ocean was very rough, and rolled in 
vast waves to the shore, striking against the rough, basaltic 
rocks, and ascending in a snow of spray through the aper- 
tures. There are numerous great caverns along the sea 
coast, into which the water rushes with great rapidity. 
The Skerries, a series of elevated rocks, in a line, extending 
some distance into the sea, a mile or two from the shore, 
presented a grand sight — the maddened waters breaking 
against them and dashing to a great height. But; at length, 
we came upon the extensive ruin of Dunluce Castle. This 
hoary, naked, roofless pile of walls, towers, dungeons, and 
halls, has gone into a grand decay. The gray old man of 
the castle comes about to lead you through it. It appears, 
from the walls and other ruins near, that a town stood- here 
in olden time, and such is the tradition. You' are first led 
among low walls, their upper parts having fallen down. 
These, it is said, formed the barracks and hostelry con- 
nected with the castle — the castle being held by one of the 
warlike, independent chiefs, who, of old, exercised kingly 
power within their own dominions. From this you pass 
over a narrow, arched wall, only eighteen inches thick, 
extending over a vast chasm. This is the only entrance to 
the great ruin. Only one person could pass at a time: 
consequently, it could be most easily defended from attack 
without — the castle being built on an immense perpendicu- 
lar rock, one hundred feet high, which is lashed by the sea. 



228 giant's causeway. 

flowing under it througli a cave. Here, then, are its walls 
of basalt; its tombs; its sentry boxes; its vast dining 
apartment ; its halls of judgment and audience : and here 
is the dungeon, with its walls many feet thick, and whose 
rock floor is kept ever swept clean by the banshee of the 
Antrim family, (to whom the ruin belongs,) and which 
wails whenever one of them dies — a banshee, who is sup- 
posed to be a little old-fashioned spirit, about two feet high; 
that attaches herself to all families of respectable descent in 
Ireland. 'Tis a most dull, gloomy-looking dungeon, and 
well might be supposed to be haunted : for, doubtless, 
murders most foul have been committed in it. The old 
gray man has himself heard the banshee ; and he repeats, 
like a parrot, dreadful stories which he has read in a book 
about the McQuillans and McDonalds, who used to own the 
castle ; and also about a beautiful young lady, " with eyes as 
fair as yours, my girl," to whom it all descended. 'Tis a 
strange and mournful ruin, whether Danish, Saxon, Gothic, 
Norman, or Celtic, sitting on a high, gray sea rock. 

But we go on to the hotel near the Causeway — employ 
a guide, and commence walking over the high heathery 
blufl* the guide pointing out the different places on the 
coast, and telling the names which have been given to them 
according to imagination or caprice. The coast is four 
hundred and twenty feet high — is almost perpendicular, 
and exposed on the bluff bank toward the sea are discov- 
ered, all along the shore, columns of basalt, a black, hard 
stone ; each column separate from yet touching the next, 
and all the columns with regular angles, tetragons, penta- 
gons, or hexagons. They are generally so close that a 
sheet of paper cannot be interposed between them. It is 
said there are sixty thousand columns of basalt visible. 
How far they may extend into the land, or how far into 
the water, is unknown. It is calculated that ninety-nine 
out of every hundred columns have five, six, or seven 



giant's causeway. 229 

sides. There is but one triangular pillar, and there are but 
three of nine sides. In some places, along this extraordi- 
nary coast, a bluff bank fronting the sea, near the water 
are strata of red ochre, next unformed strata, then basaltic 
pillars fifteen or twenty feet high, standing perpendicularly, 
all in perfect regularity and fitness ; above this are other 
unformed strata, then other columns of regular basalt pil 
lars, thirty or forty feet in height — generally, eight, ten, 
or twelve inches in circumference. The Giant's Causeway 
proper is a succession of these columns, extending out 
from this coast toward the coast of Scotland. They stand 
upright, and you walk on the ends of the columns, some of 
which are covered by the surges of the sea. There appear 
to be three different causeways near each other, separated 
however by fallen, broken rocks. We descended and 
walked on their irregular pavement, composed of the ends of 
the basalt columns. No builder on earth, in one thousand 
years, with all means and appliances demanded, could 
sculpture the hard basalt into these regular-sided columns, 
arrange them all in such juxtaposition, and place them 
thus solidly in the sea, defying its rage for centuries. The 
basalt, chemically, is said to be composed of about one 
half flinty earth, one quarter iron, and one-quarter clay and 
lime — they are Plutonic in their origin, that is, the ingre- 
dients have been perfectly melted, and in cooling have 
crystallized into their present forms. The tradition on 
the coast is, that a great giant lived on the opposite coast 
of Scotland, who threatened to whip a great giant that 
lived on the Irish coast, and said he would come over and 
give him a regular pounding, but that he did not wish to 
wet his feet. Whereupon, the Irish giant built this great 
causeway over to Scotland, and invited the Scotch giant to 
step over, which he did, and they fought on the Irish coast. 
The Irish giant proved the victor ; but he invited, with 
true Irish generosity, his now humbled antagonist to settle 

u 



280 LONDONDERKY. 

in Ireland, as lie had now settled him, which he did. Much 
of it has sunk under the sea ; but portions can be traced 
all the way over to Scotland, where, on the island of Staffa, 
it forms the magnificent cave of Fingal. On account of 
the roughness of the sea we could not descend in a boat, 
and explore any of the numerous caves which open into 
the beach. The Scotch coast of Argyleshire, with its white 
rock cliffs, the islands of Mull, and Islay, and Eachlin — the 
latter a continuation of the Causeway — are very distinctly 
seen here. With the ocean view, the heath hills and the 
distant slopes around, the pillared walls of basalt on the 
beach, the numerous bays, all render the scenery here 
truly grand and interesting, and no place could probably 
be more attractive as a summer resort. The guide shows 
you the giant's organ, the giant's gateway and loom, the 
giant's chimney tops, the giant's pulpit, the giant's gran- 
ary, the four sisters, and other places, which have received 
those names in consequence of the singular arrangement 
of the pillars. 

Leaving the Causeway, we returned to the solitary but 
very romantically situated hotel near it ; dined, and then 
returned by carriage to Portrush, whence we hired a car 
to Coleraine, a pretty place on the Bann River, three miles 
from the sea. There we took the cars for Londonderry — 
passing near the sea on one side, and a very high and 
grand coast on the other. At Londonderry, which has a 
population of about twenty thousand, we remained a night 
and a part of a day. The town is situated on a slope de- 
scending to the river Foyle, which is here a wide and 
beautiful arm of the sea. There is a fine promenade, which 
is on the top of the old thick walls, extending around the 
citv, the view from which is Irish and old. The town is 
remarkable for the gallant defense which the citizens made 
against James II., and the siege of one hundred and five 
days which they sustained. The citizens were reduced to 



ENNISKILLEN. 231 

shadows — lived on dogs, tallow, vermin, hides— twenty- five 
hundred of them died by a famine. A noble ship, laden 
with provisions, dashed with giant strength against a boom 
which the besiegers had placed across the stream, but from 
the impetus ran ashore among the besiegers, who, with 
joy, were about to board her, when she fired a broadside, 
the rebound from which extricated her from the sands, and 
she floated on the other side to the relief of the citizens. 
The Cathedral is a noble old Gothic building, and there are 
some monuments to the memory of those who defended the 
city. Protestantism prevails in all this portion of Ireland. 
Leaving Londonderry at eleven o'clock, we arrived by rail- 
way at 

ENNISKILLEN", 

at two o'clock, passing on our route numerous bogs, on 
which lay conical piles of cut peat to dry, and thus become 
fit for use. The bogs appear to be vegetable matter or roots, 
mingled with soil. The peat burns well, and is about as 
cheap as coal. The bogs look like the bottoms of ancient 
lakes and morasses. We saw many laborers at work on it 
with spades cutting the peat^ which is of various degrees 
of excellence. It is not, in general, fit for use till after 
an exposure to the sun of five or six months. The black 
kinds are reputed the best.- Enniskillen is rather a pleas- 
ant place in regard to situation ; but is well supplied with 
beggars, and not at all deficient in filthiness. It is between 
two lakes. Upper and Lower Lough Erne. We hired a 
boatman to row up one of the lakes, about three miles, to 
the island of Devenish, one of the four hundred beautiful 
islands in the lakes. This island consists of a gently slop- 
ing hill, having about one hundred acres ; and on it are 
two extensive ruins of abbeys and a round tower, one of 
the curiosities of Ireland, in almost a perfect state, though, 
its history has altogether perished. The tower is near one 



232 ENNISKILLEN. 

hundred feet high, has a conical stone roof, and is perhaps 
fifteen feet in diameter. It is built without mortar, and 
the walls are three feet thick. Inside there is a hollow nine 
feet across at the base, gradually narrowing to the top ; there 
is no staircase and no entrance, except an aperture ten or 
twelve feet from the ground. Near it are walls, and ruins, 
and graves, and broken stone coffins, tenantless of their 
once-valued dust; also, many other grave-stones, moss- 
grown, and meaningless in their obliterated lettering. On 
the brow of the hill, and commanding a prospect of soft 
and rich beauty is the other abbey ruin, one side of which is 
all ivy-grown. Its tower stands yet, in part, with its stone 
steps. The walls around, now nearly all fallen down, must 
have enclosed an extensive space. What the round tow- 
ers, most of which converge toward the top, were for, who 
erected them, and when, are among the mysteries of Ireland's 
past. There are many theories, the champions of which, 
as has been remarked, would sooner " die on the floor" than 
give them up, and would probably die of ennui, if the ques- 
tion were at length set at rest. Some regard them as relics 
of Pagan times, temples of the sun ; others, as belfries, re- 
servoirs for provisions, etc. From the hills are seen many 
other islands, used as pastures, in this beautiful lake ; also, 
the undulations of many miles* of surface, all as green now 
as in June, in America ; hedge-rows, remnants of gardens, 
desolate rose-bushes, and mingled -ruin and beauty gener- 
ally. The places around -these ruins are jQi regarded as 
holy ground. Passing along the lake we saw other ruins, 
with ivy-grown walls, standing near the shore of the lake, 
in exquisitely green pasturages, all with an air of mourn- 
ful desolation. Truly Ireland, in soil, climate, and beauti- 
ful, soft, and lovely scenery, appears to be as fine a country 
as I have ever seen. But its common and lower classes 
are degraded, ragged, mean, and groveling. We, in Amer- 
ica, are clearly ahead of all other nations in those insti- 



ENNISiaLLEN. 233 

tutions whicli make for the good of the mass. Here gov- 
ernment appears only as a means of advantaging the upper 
classes. Yerj many of the common class, with whom one 
meets and converses here, have relatives in America ; their 
heart is with ns ; it bounds more quickly at the name of 
America ; if is their land of promise. I have understood 
the amount of money sent back to their poor relatives, 
father or mother, by the emigrants in America, is enormous. 
It is delightful to see an Irishman brightening up at the 
mention of America. The angel comes upon his face. 
He straightens himself up as if he heard sweet music from 
afar, and begins to be aware that he has been, or will be a 
man ; that he belongs to the human race. I have listened 
to frothy Fourth of July orations, and read articles written 
by weaklings, to be read by witlings, in our magazine lite- 
rature — I have never read or seen so great, or so eloquent 
a compliment to my country, as I have seen in the expres- 
sion of an Irishman's face at the thought of America. 
Though he may never see it ; though he may live and die 
in the island rimmed by the sea, yet the mere knowledge 
there is such a country, doubtless, often in his hours of toil 
brings the sun-light into his soul, and makes the verdureless 
human ruin glow. ISTever have I seen any thing so remark- 
able as the man coming on the face of an Irishman, when 
he sees an American. The O'Donohue, booted and spurred, 
and riding over the lake on his white-tailed war-horse — a 
king come back out of the olden to redeem them all — is an 
excitable and pleasurable fiction, that may or may not be, 
but America is a dream and reality both. It gives them 
just what they want now — a little bread! The damnation 
i^ sure of such persons, and hell is greedy for them, who 
exclude foreigners from a little participation in the large 
inheritance of American progression, and from " leave to 
toil" on our broad lands, when these foreigners want to rise 
from the degradation of despotism, and extract from our 

u2 



234 ATHLONE. 

otherwise useless and abundant soil, tlie mere subsistence 
which legitimated tyranny refuses them in the land of their 
birth. The world is large enough for all persons except the 
covetous. American Know-Nothingisra is an unparalleled 
atrociousness — if it be less or more, longer, shorter, or in 
diagnosis or prognosis, any thing else than a requirement 
or enforcement of the intendments of the Constitution of 
the United States. It is not desirable to have the lower 
state of European morality superinduced on us; it is not 
desirable to have them in our official positions — if we are 
to be mal-ruled, let it'be by our own people — with all their 
romance of antiquity and art. We do not want old-world- 
liness engrafted on the fresh and vigorous stock of America. 
We want to educe our own distinct nationality ; but at the 
same time iiji qur plenty we are not going to look at their 
penury with scorn ; in our largeness we are not going to 
turn aside the beseeching hands of lowness, and deny those 
a home and subsistence who are what we were. 
We are now at 

ATHLONE, 

in the centre of Ireland, and within hearing of the Falls of 
the Shannon, whose grand expanse, being the largest river 
in the three kingdoms, runs through the town. We left 
Enniskillen yesterday, at one o'clock, by coach, having pre- 
viously taken a stroll along Lough Erne ; the banks of 
which are reckoned by some, a little too enthusiastic perhaps, 
as second to none in Europe for beauty. There are views 
in the distance of ivy-covered ruins, those grand marks of 
Time's undoings, and of round towers, rising with peaked, 
pointed tops starward, and a rich, green country, with hills 
of meads and pastures. We also visited the Earl of Bel- 
more's castle — a large building in the modern style. At the 
entrance to the grounds is a very pretty little cottage, ivy- 
grown, the gate-keeper's lodge, who admits you through an 



ATHLONE. 235 

iron gate; and the view of lawn and artificial lake; ricli 
and rare shrubbery; carriage-drives and terraces, and deep, 
dark parks, with the stately castle amidst all — is very beau- 
tiful. From Enniskillen our way lay along several beau- 
tiful lakes; also many bogs, and some fine plantations of 
pasturage; and on the bog sides were many turf huts, 
apparently dunghill heaps — the most misefable 4)laces in 
which a most miserable and abject race could be supposed 
to live — windowless, floorless, muddy — the green grass 
growing out of the Did turf of ^vhich the house was built, 
and whose slatternly, ragged inhabitants, looked as if they 
only desired whiskey and only needed death. We also 
crossed some dirty, mean, and peculiarly IcTw Irish-looking 
villages, where brawls, fighting, drinking, cursmg, seemed 
the natural ingredients of existence. The country itself, in 
many parts, was of astonishing beauty,N and only " man was 
vile." Arriving at Cavan — a place where filth was securely 
entrenched — we got into the cars, which took us through a 
thinly -peopled country, the landlords having ejected the 
poor inhabitants to make room for sheep pastures, to Mul- 
lington; where, resting an hour or two, we resumed our 
course to Athlone — passing some fine lakes, glimmering in 
the moonbeams. Arrived at Athlone, we fortunately found 
a clean hotel, rather a rarity in this part of Ireland, but truly 
a luxury after seventy miles railwaying and coaching. The 
towns through which we passed seem like a fever dream. 
It is not a very daring presumption, perhaps, to assert posi- 
tively they are human beings, and it is highly probable 
they are alive ; but how they live, or why they live, or 
were born, do not clearly appear. 

Yet there are many things in these old Irish towns that 
may interest a thoughtful stranger as he strolls about. 
Here are the raggedest people on earth — ingenious, and gro- 
tesque, many-colored raggedness — out of which peers a 
face with a countenance of sordid, mean, poverty-stamped 



236 ATHLONE. 

expression. The phases of these faces are really curious. 
Europe has the extremes of man. What "wretchedness 
apparently ; what shoeless women and children ! As to 
their heads, they know nothing of such luxuries as hats or 
bonnets ; and frequently there is nothing else but an old 
torn cloak, half - concealing their shivering forms. Of 
course you are begged of— and you give; unless you are 
like an English gentleman witli whom I traveled, who 
never gave any thing, as he said, " on principle"' — rather an 
unprincipled principle! Tenantless and half-pulled down 
houses are numerous, from which the people have been 
ejected by the landlord, or his heartless under-lessee — the 
people wandering oft* in search of employment, or, if able, 
gpnp to America. 

Athlone is an old and filthy place. No traveler covetous 
of cleanliness should perambulate its streets. The Shannon 
here is broad, and not much unlike the Ohio in appearance. 
A splendid railway bridge here crosses it. There are ex- 
tensive fortifications, and a very ancient, strongly -built 
castle, with walls fourteen feet thick, surmounted with 
many cannon. The castle is circular, and bears the marks 
of great age. Other cannon are placed on various fortifica- 
tions, connected by walls, which, with the river, enclose a 
beautiful green promenade. Below the bridge, and near 
the river, is the Abbey of St. Mary. The long side walls 
of the chapel yet stand, rising from out the old graves 
inside and outside the ruins. There are yew trees, ivy- 
grown, gray old walls. On a corner-building, written in 
stone, I read the inscription, ^' This abbey was founded in 
1210." The ivy essays to bind up the old walls, and the 
green grass springs luxuriantly over those who moulder in 
the mildew of death. 

We are in the centre of the bog region of Ireland, and 
nothing is burnt here for fuel but peat. It makes a pleas- 
ant fire, is cleaner than coal ; but does not throw out so 



THE SHANNON. 237 

much heat. All the Irish here have some representative in 
America. The condition of the country is said to be im- 
proving, but it is still sufficiently horrid. The population 
has diminished about two millions within a few years. It 
is probable, however, that those who hava been obliged to 
Teave their country by the tyranny and avarice of their land- 
lords have, upon the whole, been much benefited. The lower 
Irish cannot improve in Ireland. People and nations fre- 
quently reach a point from which there is no improvement^ 
while they remain in these circumstances. The negroes in 
Africa are unimprovable, except by slavery in America, a 
course through which energizes the race. It requires a 
new country, with new influences, to break the strong 
chain which binds them to their old habits. But if they 
exerted half the energy here which they are compelled to 
exert in America, they might transform this fine island into 
a paradise. The prosperity of a country depends on the 
energy of the people. It is not the mere vassalage of this 
island to England, nor the extreme heartlessness of the 
landlords, that keeps Ireland in its present abject state. 
Other causes, arising from the inertness of the people, have 
their influence. A people thoroughly under the influence 
of Catholicism rarely improve. Its effect is to merge this 
world too much in the other. The Catholic religion has 
too many worlds, — heaven, hell, earth, and purgatory. The 
Apostles were not merely devotional men, but eminently 
practical, working spirits. 

But this morning (Monday, October 26th,) is pleasant 
and cool, and we are on our way in a steamer down the 
Shannon. After leaving Athlone its banks are low, and 
somewhat resemble those of the Mississippi, except that in 
many places there are large quantities of black stones and 
rocks. The land is in pasturage or meadow, and looks not 
unlike an American prairie. But it has not the apparent 
civilization of an American river-scene, though so much 



238 THE SHANN'ON. 

older. Villages are fewer, and most of tliem look -unprO' 
gressively wretched. Twelve miles below Atlilone we 
came upon the ruins of Clonmacnoise, or the Seven 
Churclies. These are supposed by some to be the remains 
of the *' early Christianity" of Ireland. They are on a 
slightly elevated plot of ground, between which and the 
river extends a marsh or meadow. The ruins are most 
picturesque and grand, reminding one by their size of those 
on the Rhine. There are two round towers, one much 
higher than the other; the higher one being overgrown 
with ivy — around is a large grave-yard, some of the tombs 
bear date as old as A. D. 1153. There are many large 
granite crosses — black and gray with age. The corner 
towers of some of the churches yet stand, and the whole 
is a pile of majestic, monastic ruins. St. Kiernan is the 
guardian saint of these ruins, and the little stone on which 
it is believed his spirit still sits to cure diseases is shown. 
He is said to have founded a seat of learning here in 548. 
The inscriptions on the tombs are in the oldest form of 
Irish letters. Behind it arise singular artificial earth- 
mounds, possibly like the round towers, memorials of 
Pagan times. Below these ruins are those of an immensely 
strong old castle, in which the last of the regular old Irish 
chiefs lived — the Macloghlons. It is all in ruins, toppling 
to decay ; nothing but massive, irregular thick stone walls, 
fallen and falling. The old Irish chief was hospitable — 
always in debt, in fight, and in liquor — house open to every 
one, and nothing kept up but the dignity of the family. 
On the opposite side of the river is a high mound, where 
you are told at night the fairies dance, stepping gayly 
on its green, grassy summit : and you will hear a legend 
about it if you look encouragement. There are mournful 
relics of the old Pagan and Christian times, and different 
ages and religions, all mingled together. It is said the 
early Christians here, as well as in other countries, built 



THE SHANNON. 239 

their churches near places where Pagan rites had been 
held. Around these extensive ruins was formerly a 
large moat or ditch, part of which is still to be seen. Few 
ruins that I have seen are so impressive, so desolate as this 
collection of dilapidated churches on the low banks of the 
Shannon. Further on you come to the ruins of the Castle 
of Garry, with its dark ancient subterraneous fortress, into 
which it is said no one can enter without being followed 
by a curse ; in confirmation of which I was told, three 
brothers, allured by a report of money being buried there, 
entered a few years ago — two died immediately on return- 
ing to the opening after being in it, the third became an 
idiot, and can tell nothing of what he saw, and is yet a 
wanderer about the ruins. One old and high tower is yet 
standing. Near this I was shown the well of St. Kiernan, 
with a single tree near it, and a stone written over with 
unintelligible characters. The well is resorted to by the 
inhabitants, having, as is asserted, miraculous powers in 
the cure of diseases. Not far from this is a fine modern 
bridge over the Shannon, connecting the opposite banks at 
the antique mouldering town of Banagher, where are mod- 
ern towers surmounted with cannon, commanding the river. 
The banks of the river continue low, with numerous bogs, 
on which we see piles of peat, which being generally cut 
in May or June, is exposed during the summer to dry. 
There are numerous boats laden with it, and many small 
mules on land, with baskets of peat on each side, convey- 
ing it for sale. Below Banagher are many Martello towers, 
built in the time of Pitt, about 1805, when a French inva- 
sion was expected. Below this we pass the picturesque, 
ancient castles in ruins, some of which are nameless ; those 
of Kedwood and Torr are particularly noticeable, having 
large fissures in the walls, over which the protecting ivy 
casts its tendrils. On account of the lowness of the banks 
the view extends to a great distance. There are numerous 



KILLALOE. 

islands here, and at length the Shannon expands into the 
Lake Derg, twenty- three miles long, and in some places 
eleven broad, with numerous islands and high mountain 
banks, wooded and castellated. At Portumna is one of 
several locks on the Shannon, a Dublin Company having 
expended, a few years ago, thirty-five thousand dollars to 
improve the navigation. Here is the fine seat of Lord 
Cranmore, fronting the lake, and surrounded by larch 
groves. The brick castle of the Marquis Clanricarde is 
just opposite, a mass of ruined walls. In various places 
further down the banks of the lake into which the Shannon 
has now expanded, are stately stone ruins, nameless and 
noteless in history. On Holy Island are to be seen the 
ruins of Seven Churches, like those of Clonmacnoise — the 
number seven being a favorite one in ecclesiastical affairs. 
There is here also a very high round tower, which can be 
seen many miles along the coast ; and here is also an ob- 
scure cave, which is the entrance of St. Patrick's Purga- 
tory, the saint having kindly consented to place it in Ire- 
land, as a special favor. The mountain scenery here is very 
fine — the red and black bogs have disappeared, and the 
wavy outline of the high mountains surrounds the horizon. 
The ''Devil's Bit" is a singular indentation in one of these 
mountains. The lake then narrows to a river again ; the 
mountains enclose it. There are numerous castles with soft 
sounding Irish names — one is called Killala, being that of 
Brian Boroimhe, King of Munster. At Killaloe there is 
an old bridge across the river, and the scenery surrounding 
the old Irish town is truly beautiful. I visited the place 
where Brian Boroimhe's castle stood. The adjoining seat 
is now called Bally Yally. 

You pass along a road from Killaloe, (where we left the 
steamer,) on each side of which are high, stone walls; along 
which extend rows of fine old trees, which, as well as the 
walls, are covered with ivy. Passing through a pasturage 



KILLALOE. 241 

to a large grove of trees, you come to a high earth wall, 

outside of which is a moat, aod inside a vast hollow space. 

This is all that is left of the old king's residence : he that 

fought so valiantly against the Danes one thousand years 

ago. The old guide tells you the marble and curiously 

carved work have been carried off. The old guide says 

that a sword has recently been found here, so large, that a 

man of the present day can scarcely lift it. He shows, also? 

where the kino-'s kitchen was — near half a mile from the 
# 
castle; and says the servants he had were so numerous, that 

when the king dined, the servants stood in a row from 
palace to kitchen — passing the dishes along rapidly without 
changing their postures. I entered the old Cathedral of 
Killaloe. Adjoining it is the Oratory of St. Molua, said to 
be one of the oldest buildings in Ireland. The cathedral is 
almost covered with extremely luxuriant ivy, of the varie- 
gated kind. In it, on one side, is a most curiously carved, 
antique arch, black with age, which is over the resting place 
of Brian Boroimhe's son. In the Oratory is a stone ceiling, 
apparently close to the roof — the latter being also of stone. 
The guide showed me a passage, revealing an apartment 
between them which no one would suspect, where the lovely 
princess, daughter of the king, was concealed from the 
Danes. The floor of this most singular looking building 
resounds to the tread, revealing subterraneous passages be- 
neath, one of which led to the adjoining cathedral ; the now 
w^alled-up entrance to which the guide showed by turning a 
secret panel in the cathedral. Around the church are 
numerous grave-stones, gray and black, long since unfaith- 
ful to the trust of affection — name, effigy, all obliterated, 
and even the once hard blue limestone has crumbled. 
Departing from Killaloe in an Irish jaunting car, we passed 
along prospects of natural scenery of delicious loveliness — 
cultivated slopes of mountains ; numerous hedges and earth 
embankments, serving as fences ; numerous bogs, also, with 
16 V 



242 lEELAND. 

heaps of cut peat ; many "houses or hovels of the poor Irish are 
also along the road. The ordinary negro cabins in the south 
are palaces compared to 'them. Turf, mud huts, with wet 
earthen floors, on which stand sad, barefoot, slatternly women, 
sickly, slovenly children, in squalid rags and wretchedness — 
dejected, abject, hungry, hopeless ! Out of these misera- 
ble hovels they are ejected by the rapacious landlords, who 
pull down the houses to get rid of them, justly concerned 

. that such sights are a disgrace to their plantations, instea^ 
of making efforts to rebuild the houses and ameliorate the 
condition of the tenantry. Much of the country appears as 
if it had been depopulated by violence. We met an Irish 
family, who probably had just been ejected, carrying their 
all on their backs — young children strapped on their backs, 
after the manner of the American Indians. Their appear- 
ance was the most dejected of any human beings I have 
ever seen. In this great, vast world, this plenteous, abun- 
dant universe, there seemed to be no place for them. 
Human effort seemed to have become extinct, and manly 
spirit had become ashes. They seemed ashamed to be; and 
intruders in God's world, who had nothing except the air 
to breathe and the wide, dusty road on which to go fur- 
ther — further ; on — on ! A curse sink their heartless land- 
lords into a resurrectionless damnation ! A recent law, 
providing for the sale of encumbered estates, (to a great ex- 
tent abolishing the law of entail,) on petition of the creditors 
and proprietors, has brought much of the land of Ireland 

^nto new hands — principally English — capital being at 
present abundant in England ; and it is found tjaat pas- 
turage, the raising of fine beef and mutton for the English 
nobility, is a better business than agriculture. But some- 
times the old Celtic spirit is aroused. Only a few days 
ago, in this region, a man who had bought some of these 
lands, and evicted the tenants, was shot dead in his buggy ; 
and many such cases have occurred. One of the landlords, 



IRELAND. 243 

descending the Shannon in the steamer with us, had property 
of this description, from which the tenants had been 
ejected ; and it was very evident his feelings were not of 
the most tranquil description. In a workhouse, among the 
mountains, near the Shannon, I was assured that more peo- 
ple had died from starvation, neglect, want, misery, sickness^ 
than had perished in the whole British army in the Crimea. 
The poor go there only as a last resort ; the tyranny and 
the life they are compelled to lead being only one degree 
better than naked starvation in the open air. The poorer 
class of Ireland must either emigrate or be exterminated* 
Ireland can be their home no longer. I have understood 
this is usually the conversation that takes place : '' My 
father, my grandfather, my great grandfather, lived on this 
land — paid you rent for it. I am willing to pay as much, 
or more; only let me stay." The landlord replies: ''This 
is my land. I paid my money for it. I choose to do with, 
it what I please. I want it. You must leave." "Well, 
I'll hang for you," is generally muttered by the tenant, as 
he leaves. The old Celtic blood does not always keep 
down. It murders. 

On our route were numerous bogs. I asked the guide 
where he thought they came from. His answer was — " That 
in old times they had moved in." Like many more learned 
persons who make the deluge a scapegoat for every diffi- 
culty, he enlarged farther on the subject, by saying — "That 
at the time of the flood the bogs took to moving, and stop- 
ped down here." In digging down, many roots or stumps 
of trees are disclosed, apparently indicating that extensive 
swamps or forests occupied these places. 

On the road near the Shannon we came to an extensive, 
ancient, massive ruin, on the top of a vast limestone rock. 
This is Castle Connell, said also to have been a kingly resi- 
dence in old of the chiefs of Munster. Many portions of the 
thick walls, especially at the corners, where they are built 



244 IRELAND. 

somewhat like towers, yet remain — mortar and stone look- 
ing as if all had petrified into one solid rock. When last be- 
sieged and taken, the castle was blown up by gunpowder, 
and part of it has rolled down into the plain. The Irish 
ivy is all over the majestic, massive ruins, and the space 
between the walls is green and lovely, with the perennial 
vitality of Nature. It is here that the Falls of Dunoos, on 
the Shannon, are. We hired a boat with the rower, who 
took us over the safe portion of the rapids. We then 
landed on the beautifully cultivated domains of Sir Dillon 
Massey ; and passing an ancient-looking turret, most pic- 
turesquely mantled with ivy to its summit, we came to a 
place from which we had most splendid views of the roar- 
ing waters. The rapids are more than a mile in length, 
and the scene, taking it altogether, and abnegating all re- 
collection of Niagara, is very fine. Around you, on that 
side, are many walls and terraces, planted with beautiful 
flowers. Opposite is ''Hermitage," the elegant seat of 
Lord Massey ; below you rage, roar and foam the waters 
through massy, mighty rocks. Foreign rivers cannot, 
however, move Americans. We deal in much mightier 
articles at home. Descending to the bank of the Shannon, 
we walked along a promenade rendered beautiful by artful 
shrubbery; and at length came to an avenue of trees lead- 
ing to the right, and encircling a small space like a shrine, 
in the centre of which is the holy Irish well. It is a deep, 
walled spring, whose waters are reckoned to possess mirac- 
ulous healing powers. Here is heathendom in a Christian 
land. It is a sort of Catholic chapel. Each tree around 
has images, or sculptures, or crucifixes, and niches, for 
holy candles to burn at night. Around the spring is a 
path on which the devout diseased crawl on their bare 
knees. Each one who comes here is obliged to bring his 
own bowl with which to drink, and which he m^ust leave 
when he departs. On the trees hang broken crutches, 



IRELAND. 245 

which, as thej are always cured, their faith being strong, 
they leave behind. On the ground are shown the places 
where they lie at night — the places in summer being crowded. 
The water is rather palatable. Near are the ruins of an 
extremely ancient grave-yard and church. Our way to 
Limerick passes through the beautifully cultivated grounds 
of Lord Clare; but in immediate juxtaposition to the road 
are the horrid tenements of the poor, who, with their 
hogs, dwell in the same apartment — the latter, doubtless, 
feeling himself the most comfortable of the dwellers. 
Other houses also, which appear to have been just pulled 
down to get rid of the tenants, who wished to live a little 
longer in their fatherland, L'eland being no longer the 
place for the Irish. I understand the emigration, much 
of it compulsory, from Ireland, at the present time, is 
enormous. Cheap emigrant trains, crowded, leave every 
morning from Limerick and other places, where are such 
partings and weepings as are seen nowhere else on earth. 
The landlord, if he can get rid of them in no other way, 
proffers them a ticket to America for the unexpired inter- 
est of their leases. Yet a more generous, warm-hearted 
imaginative people nowhere else exists. The " finest 
peasantry in the world," as O'Connell called them, have no 
home in their own country. Limerick consists of Irish 
and English town, and has a population of seventy thou- 
sand. In Irish town are hovels and hUts that look like 
ulcers on the earth. You meet with the antagonism of 
every pleasurable feeling, and every sense is outraged, and 
each stink is a distinct undulation of olfactory horror. It 
would be pleasanter to undertake a pass defended by artil- 
lery, than one of these streets. The wild Irish, in the 
heart of the city, look at you from their diseased and drink- 
bleared eyes, with murderous meaning. The women in 
tattered cloaks, the ragged imps of unhumanized children, 
the stenches, the sights, the moving masses of living hu- 

V2 



246 LIMEEIOK. 

manity, crushed hearts and demoralized bodies, where one 
would think it agony to live ; these are the things within 
five minutes' walk of the stately streets and princely houses 
of English town. Limerick was the capital of the O'Briens, 
who were kings of Munster : Smith O'Brien, who attempted 
the insarrection of 1848, being their descendant. The 
Marquis of Thomond was the recent representative of the 
family ; but by his death, without direct descendants, the 
title is extinct, and the fine estates of the marquis all sold 
by the Encumbered Estates' Court. 

The Cathedral is rather a heavy but still grand old building. 
It was founded by the O'Briens, and is massive and almost 
sublime in its proportions, though not elegant. The great 
tower on the top was used as a fortress for cannonading, by 
the Irish, when De Ginkel attacked the city. This was the 
commander who, when attacking Athlone, and summoning 
it to surrender, was replied to by Colonel Space, who held 
it for the king (James II.), by firing his pistol into the air, 
exclaiming: " These are my terms, and when my provisions 
are gone I will eat my boots." The Cathedral was founded 
nearly one thousand years ago. Around it are numerous 
blank and noteless tombs, defaced by age. The trees 
around are aged and grand. I stood and listened to its 
chime of bells, consisting of four notes, sad as the wailing 
of a banshee over an extinct family. I have seldom heard 
any thiag so simply and solely beautiful. It is an eloquent, 
gentle pleading, a yielding affectionate remembrance — 
dying dream-like ; lonely, wild, and plaintive. The story 
is told, that they are the treasured work of many years of 
an Italian artist, from whose native village, where he had 
them placed that he might listen to them in the evening, 
they were stolen and carried to Ireland. The artist lost 
wife, children, friends, all, and his home was devastated by 
war. He followed his work to Ireland, and hearing their 
familiar chime suddenly when sailing on the Shannon, 



LIMERICK. 247 

the unexpected gusli of memories of youth, and a happier 
home and time, killed him. He fell back and died 
while in an attitude of listening. The Cathedral is now- 
fitted up with pews in the Protestant style. Not far from 
the church stands the most massive, dark, and im.pregnable 
looking castle I have yet seen. Many high and old towers, 
out of which, as well as the church, grow grapes and plants 
— a botany out of ruinousness, all from very age giving an 
impressive, antique appearance. The very long narrow 
windows of the church — its high, dark gray tower, on which 
a cannon, mounted, did most destructive damage to the be- 
siegers — the black, grass-grown, ruined walls of St. Mary's 
Abbey, seen in various streets, give this part of the town 
an interesting appearance. Near all flows the Shannon, 
across which, is the Thomond bridge, an ancient structure, 
at one end of which is a limestone rock shaped like a chair, 
on which it is said the famous treaty by which, on condi- 
tion of surrendering the city, the Catholics were guaran- 
tied the free exercise of their religion, was signed, which 
treaty was shamefully violated by the Protestant House of 
Orange, who appear to have been rather more religious 
than they were moral. The treaty stone may have been 
glorious in another day ; but when I saw it, four dirty, hat- 
less, ragged-scragged, shoeless, Irsh urchins were sitting on it, 
and it was the indication to a grocery or drinking shop. 
In this part of Ireland, the " chief end of man" seems to 
be to drink. " Licensed by law to sell spirits," is seen on 
many houses, as if, by a kind of " legal fiction," that which 
is essentially injurious could be made right. Limerick 
has some commerce — fine lace is made here, gloves also 
and fish-hooks; but curious, interestiiig, antique wretched-, 
ness is more common than any thing else. In English 
town there are several streets and places near Richmond 
Square, that are really beautiful, and almost cleanly. But 
we are off from Limerick. Station after station flies by — 



248 KILLAKNEY. 

old stone, roofless and tenantless castles on liigh lonely Hlls 
— muddy, miserable, modern streets of Irish hovels, on bogs, 
Inhere immortal souls grovel earthward in slime and filth, 
flit by — there are miles of moor, heath, and bog, ridges of 
mountain then, each higher than the other, appearing in the 
distance — streams of black water, over which antique 
bridges are seen. Depopulated, unhappy, beautiful, green, 
desolate Ireland is seen everywhere,' and at length we 
stop in the midst of the Killarney scenery, naturally a 
wonder, a glory, and a dream of embodied beauty, far in 
the southwest of Ireland, one hundred and one miles from 
Limerick. Killarney is the prettiest, little, glorious crea- 
tion of lake, island, barren, bare, picturesque peak, water- 
fall ruin in the whole world. There is a delicious little 
completeness of beauty about here, which is suggestive of 
the same kind of feelings as are induced by the sight of 
some rarely beautiful woman, which almost every one may 
remember to have seen somewhere. We arrived in the 
evening, and I had a slight view of the principal lake, with 
its islands and its mountain ramparts, from the windows of 
my hotel, (the Lake Castle House,) in a mystic watery 
moonlight. Next morning, in a walk along the shores of 
the lake of a mile you meet with a grand ruin, and sur- 
rounded by elegantly kept grounds. It is Muckross 
Abbey, eight hundred years old, sitting in the splendor and 
grandeur of ivy and age. Around are tombs, ancient and 
modern ; some of the former being low mounds, covered 
with ivy, said by the guide to be fourteen hundred years 
old. Here is shown the grave of the last of the MacCarty 
Mores, old chiefs of Ireland, who founded the abbey, and 
whose possessions were confiscated in some Irish rebellion, 
and the abbey itself suppressed in the times of Henry 
VIIL, since which it has remained a ruin. No tree can be 
more grandly beautiful than the Irish yew. There are two 
here, one on each side of the abbey, five hundred years old. 



KILLAENEY. 249 

In the court-yard is one, said to be the finest tree in Great 
Britain, planted by the early monks, and coeval with the 
abbey. This is in the court-yard ; its large branches rest on 
the ruin as if they protected it, and it supported them. It 
is a silent, magnificent sight, in its stately darkness. The 
abbey, where the fat, lazy monks, who made getting to the 
other world their profession in this, lived ; the cloisters in 
which they w^alked and read; the old church always the 
principal building, with its form of a Latin cross, its col- 
umns, and its crypts underneath, in which the monks were 
buried, are all here in desolate ruin. The British Empire 
has wisely thrown off Catholicism. These old churches, 
priories, and abbeys, with their darkness and mystery — 
their secret passages, entered by a hidden spring, which 
made certain massive stones revolve, and the secret of 
which might be known only to some Jesuit in Italy, 
who could thus send a minion into the house at any hour, 
were unsuited to the progressive genius of the British 
people. Catholicism looks back too much — a healthy reli- 
gion, as well as government, looks to the present and future. 
But we start on an excursion from our hotel in an Irish, 
one-horse, two-wheeled, five-seated, possibly two actually, 
vehicle, the jaunting car. We pass through the town 
of Killarney, which is dirty as an uncovered corner of 
hell, our hotel being some distance from it on the lake 
shore. We pass bridges, ruined churches — those of Ag- 
hadoe on the right. We pass castles of the old times, and 
Kate Kearney's grand-daughter of more modern times. She 
offers us goat's milk well mixed with what she calls ''moun- 
tain dew," or Irish whiskey. She is the grand-daughter of 
the real Simon Pure, Kate Kearney, who dwelt by the 
banks of Killarney. The mountain dew is perfectly exe- 
crable; but Kate Kearney's grand-daughter, who is not 
handsome at all, but an ugly old Irish witch-faced hag — 
notwithstanding her ancestor was remarkable for her beauty — 



250 KILLARNEY. 

persists in ojffering it to you. There are many guides prof- 
ferring to conduct you througli tlie Gap of Dunloe, which 
you now enter. The car can proceed no further than a mile 
or two within the Gap. The rest of the route through it 
must be accomplished on foot. Having had the " political 
driver" of the hotel, whom we found an intelligent man, 
we amused ourselves by conversation with him. His ver- 
nacular is the Irish language, as is the case with most of the 
inhabitants of this part of the island. He says the heart of 
the Irish people is in America ; and it is the place whither 
they are all going. The mere mention of America stirs the 
blood of an Irishman to an unwonted warmth, and his eye 
brightens. Every person with whom I conversed has a 
''relative there; and nearly all have sent remittances home 
to relieve the aged, who cannot leave, and assist those who 
can. To raise Irishmen in Ireland to fight against America 
in the British service is an utter impossibility. It would 
be far easier to get them to fight against England, They 
are the finest, best, most warm-hearted people on earth ; 
and the brain ought to be turned to ashes and the hearty 
withered that would turn those generous people — the only 
friends we have in Europe — from oar rich and boundless 
world-fields of the West. It is said they drink, are turbu- 
lent and priest-ridden. But no people .throw off the latter 
influence more readily than the Irish ; and as to the former 
things, other people drink a little too, and are also somewhat 
turbulent ; and some of them do not live a thousand miles 
from Washington city. It is probable, however, that the 
Irish drink nearly as much as we do, when they can get it ; 
but we drink much better liquor. The Gap of Dunloe is a 
narrow pass between bare, rugged, mossy, heathery lime- 
stone mountains. The scene is savage, desolate, and almost 
as sublime as the upper parts of the Grimsel Pass in Swit- 
zerland, lacking, however, the enormous snows and glaciers 
and the roaring Aar. Through the pass, which is four miles 



KILLARNEY. 251 

long, runs a small stream, forming, in some places, black- 
looking lakes, and occasionally waterfalls. The Purple 
Mountain rises on tlie left, Magillicuddy's Eocks on the 
right — attaining a height of two thousand seven hundred 
and three thousand four hundred feet — the loftiest in Ire- 
land. We ascend, in passing the Gap, for two miles, then 
descend toward the three lakes of Killarney, having on our 
right glimpses into the Black Valley — a name quite appro- 
priate to its appearance. Many of the lakes in the Gap have 
legends attached to them. There is the Spirit Lake, in 
which St. Patrick confined the last serpent in Ireland, in a 
box, promising to let it out to-morrow, and where its wail- 
ings may now be heard, as it exclaims, '^Is to-morrow come 
yet ?" We were attended the whole of our course through 
the Gap by Irish girls — some of whom were pretty — offering 
us mountain dew and goat's milk. Their perseverance is 
commendable, as they were poorly clad and barefoot, yet, 
despite our repeated refusals, they followed us four miles, 
having to walk the same distance back, in the hope of sell- 
ing some. But let them not be despised. It is their only 
means of making a living, and of getting to America, which 
name is as sweet to their ears as Heaven. Descending into 
the plain, we were met by another group of girls — we 
having, on the bestowment of a small gratuity, persuaded 
the former group to go back. Those we now met were 
more smiling in appearance, and somewhat better clad than 
the former, who resigned only when we approached the 
domain of the latter. These were really pleasant, graceful, 
pretty Irish girls, who re-enforced their ''mountain-dew" 
with smiles, wit, and perseveringly followed us for miles, 
till we drank the " dew," though with a wry face, probably 
because it was made of rye. We now went through the 
grounds adjoining Lord Brandon's cottage, a pretty place on 
the lake. Lord Brandon is now dead, and the premises wear 
an air of neglect. He came here to this solitary place with 



252 KILLLAENEY. 

his beautiful wife from London. But it seems he did not 
have her love. He was old. A manly cavalier appeared 
under her window, whom she had loved. She eloped — and 
left Lord Brandon and his remote paradise. Our boatmen, 
whom we had previously ordered at the hotel to meet us 
here, were waiting for us. We were now at the end of the 
upper lake, and we had some ten or twelve miles to be 
rowed in order to reach our hotel — the ordinary way of 
making the trip being to go by land and return by water. 
The scene now presented was beautiful in the extreme, as 
we were rowed along the smooth, deep waters of the lake 
by the strong arms of two brawny, ardent Irishmen. The 
mountains rose all around in immense masses of rocks, 
brown with heather, as if bathed in perpetual sunshine. 
The islands in the lakes being very numerous, are clad in 
shrubbery of rare kinds — the arbutus, the holly, the yew. 
The lake appeared to be completely land locked — a thing 
of loveliness shut out from the world, and reflecting only 
the skies above and the flowery creations of summer on its 
sides. We landed on Arbutus Island, and partook of our 
lunch. This is a sylvan rock in the waters, with walks 
underneath the shrubbery of Nature's planting. An hour's 
rowing brought us to a narrow, rapid river, connecting tbe 
upper lake with Lake Muckross, the middle one of the 
three sister lakes. Over the river to an ancient ivy-grown 
bridge, erected by tlie Danes, consisting of one arch ; it is 
of stone. Under this the water flows with great rapidity. 
We were then on a fairy spot, called the '' meeting of the 
waters," there being openings from all the lakes into it. 
On one side is Dinish Island, consisting of several acres, 
overgrown with splendid vegetation — the rich shrubbery 
of this region— and on it is also a beautiful cottage, sur- 
rounded by pleasure walks and gardens. The arbutus, 
even in winter, is a rich glossy green. The waxen, flesh- 
like flowers, seem cradled in clusters of verdure. It grows 



KILLARNEY. 253 

all along the rocky shores of the lake. We passed an awful 
looking rock, almost perpendicular, two thousand feet above 
the water, called the Eagle's ISTest. The lower part is wooded^ 
but the upper is nearly bare. The nests are reached by men 
let down by ropes, who deprive the parent birds, in their 
absence, of their young, and fight dreadfully with the des- 
poilers if they encounter them. Soon after we emerged 
from the middle lake into the lower one, which is the largest, 
across several miles of which we observed our hotel, which 
we reached in the evening, passing nearly thirty islands, 
some nearly an acre in size, others less. The mysterious, 
supernatural spirit of one of the ancient Irish chiefs, rejoic- 
ing in the simple and solemn cognomen of" The O'Donoghue," 
is the presiding genius of all this region. Many of the boat- 
men and guides would swear by all the holy saints and 
gospels that they had seen him. He appears in various 
characters — sometimes walking on the waters, arrayed in 
the ancient Irish costume, in solemn attitude, as if musing 
on the wrongs of his country ; at other times, on a great 
white horse, making a furious onslaught on his enemies; 
then again as a simple fisherman, with fishing basket and 
pole swung over his shoulders. When discovered he creeps 
into mist, and the lake becomes agitated and angry. All 
Killarney is a loveliness, and "The O'Donoghue" its dweller. 
Once every seven years he comes back to his ruined castle, 
which, as he approaches, returns to its former magnificence. 
All are reproduced, as in the olden — library, prison-house, 
kitchen, pigeon-house, leave their forms of rocks and i-e- 
sume the appearance of a thousand years ago. Those who 
have courage can follow him dry-footed over the deepest 
parts of the lake to the mountains, where his treasures lie 
concealed, which he bestows on them most liberally. When 
the sun has risen, all vanishes away. " The O'Donoghue" 
recrosses the waters, and vanishes amidst the returning ruins 
of his own castle ; and the library, the prison-house and all 

w 



254 KILLARNEY. 

become rocks. On the next day we took another excursion 
bj boat on the lower lake. We passed O'Donoghue's pul- 
pit, O'Donoghue's table, O'Donoghue's hen and chickens, 
O'Donoghue's library — all these being rocks in the lake 
which have a certain resemblance to the things after which 
they are named. But we come at length to Ross Island. 
This is a large island, having more than six hundred acres 
all laid out in pleasure grounds, gardens, flower walks and 
shrubbery ; and on one side stands a great high, green-gray 
castle ruin — Ross Castle, the residence of O'Donoghue him- 
self in former times. It is entirely mantled with ivy, and 
the crows and other birds fly around the high tower, and 
build their nests thereon and rear their young. Great as 
may have been the splendor and grandeur of these castles, 
they come to the ivy and crow at last. As we came up to 
the castle an Irish bagpipe player was sitting on the green, 
who began some Irish airs as we approached. He played, 
" The harp that once through Tara's halls," etc. These 
grounds and ruins belong to Lord Kenmore, giving the 
title of Lord Castle Ross to his eldest son. I ascended the 
tower to its top. The view of the old ruin below, with its 
complete investiture of ivy, the waters of the lake with 
the islands, the mountain boundaries, and the park around 
the castle, is fine. From this, however, our boatman rows 
us to a still lovelier island, a still more ancient ruin, and a 
place of more historical interest — Innisfallen, about three- 
fourths of a mile from Ross Castle. On our way we passed 
a huge rock, which is O'Donoghue's prison, which formerly 
had in it a large cave, in which he confined his soldiers. 
We landed on Innisfallen Island. It contains not more 
than twenty acres. It is a sheep pasture ; and the soil is 
of such exceeding richness, and produces grass so excellent, 
that sheep die of fatness if allowed to remain longer than 
three months. Every thing was green and beautiful, even 
in the last days of October. The old ruin of the once 



KILLARNEY. 255 

extensive abbey affected youtli and prime under its garni- 
ture of ivy. Eare evergreens of many kinds flourish. The 
largest ash trees I have ever seen, one of which grows over 
the walls that yet remain of St. Finian's tomb — he having 
been the founder of the abbey, which is said to be twelve 
hundred years old — nearly four hundred years older than 
Ross Castle, the age of which, as stated by the caretaker of 
the ruin, is seven hundred and ten years. Tnnisfallen is a 
loveliness — the soft waters, in dimply waves, encircle it; 
the ruins of the monastery — that singular idea of seclusion 
in the middle ages — choir, transept, aisle, refectory, dormi- 
tory, oratory — all are here in antique decay. 'Tis a spot 
for unremorseful regret and tranquil submission. Moore 
says: 

" Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well ! 

May calm and sunshine long be thine ; 
How fair thou art, let others tell, 

While hut to feel how fair be mine !" 

On one end are some rocks, called the Bed of Honor, of 
which the boatmen tell a legend about the Duke of North- 
umberland and his wife. Passing about a mile of water, we 
landed on the base of the " Tomies," as certain mountains 
here are called, and saw a most beautiful cascade, called 
O'Sullivan's, in a wooded and rocky seclusion, playing its 
water-music to the spirits of the past. On another shore of 
this lake are the beautiful demesnes of the Earl of Kenmare. 
From the residence the ground slopes down toward the 
lake; and the arrangements present every idea of taste, 
art, and luxurious wealth. The flowers are of all varieties. 
The gravel-walks are well-kept ; and one can be, in a few 
minutes' walk, in lonely, shady, contemplative dells, or 
rambling amongst flowers and rich evergreens ; or on the 
lake side, surveying mountains, islands, and ruins. 



256 CORK. 

But we are now in Dublin — a day or two having passed. 
We left Killarney, and proceeded to Cork, distant sixty- 
four miles ; remaining there a day. Cork has one of the 
finest harbors in the world ; and the shores alongside of it 
present most interesting and beautiful scenery — ruins, castles^ 
splendid modern country seats. In the city are some flue 
streets and promenades ; and some streets, the dirtiest and 
most diseased looking places in or out of Christendom, 
where dwell, and drink, and die unhappy wretches, who, 
perhaps, never once in their lives inhaled one mouthful of 
the sweet, pure air of heaven. Humanity has got into a 
terrible plight in some of these places, and looks as if it had 
better fail and shut up shop, and stop business at once. 
The city stands on the river Lee, near some marshes or 
meadows, which the Irish name of the city (Coreagh) means. 
Cork is said to have eighty-six thousand inhabitants. It 
was founded on the site of a Pagan temple, by St. Eion Ban, 
in the seventh century. Some of the Catholic churches are 
fine — have worshipers at all hours. Some have old statues 
of the crucifix before them, to which, with the devotion of 
ignorance, many were bowing. Some, as we passed, did 
not know whether to pray or beg. The situation of the 
city is partly in a pleasant vale, almost perpetually green ; 
occasioned, perhaps, by Ireland's perpetual rain : for Ire- 
land always drizzles. Within five miles is Blarney Castle, 
ancient and strong-built, in the walls of which is the cele- 
brated Blarney stone, the kissing of which is, from its posi- 
tion in the wall, rather dif&cult. But it is said to give the 
most miraculous powers of persuasion — a sort of wheedling 
eloquence. Having already told a great many things, we 
shall not tell whether we kissed the stone or not ; and no 
power on earth can make us tell — allowing some scope for 
imagination and conjecture. The following is one of the 
eongs about it : 



COEK. 257 

** The groves of Blarney, 
They look so charming, 
Down by the purling 
Of sweet, silent streams, 
Being banked with posies 
That spontaneous grow there, 
Planted in order 
By the sweet rock close. 
There is a stone there 
That whoever kisses 

I he never misses 
To grow eloquent. 
'Tis he may clamber 
To a lady's chamber 
Or become a member 
Of Parliament." 

While quoting Irish poetry, I will refer to the latter rather 
pretty lines about the chimes of Shandon Church in this 
city : 

** With deep affection 
And recollection 

1 often think on 
Those Shandon bells. 
Whose sound so wild would 
In days of childhood 
Fling round my cradle 
Their magic spells. 

I've heard bells chiming 
Full many a clime in 
Tolling sublime in 
Cathedral shrine ; 
While at a glib rate 
Brass tongues would vibrate ; 
But all their music 
Spoke nought like thine." 

It is astonishing— or else not — how slightly poetry flour- 
ishes in America. Perhaps if an action were brought by 
America against the Muses to show cause why they had 
not given us more of the poetic ability, they might rejoin 
by finding some in the one twentieth part of what Willis 
17 w2 



258 IRELAND. 

calls his poems ; also find a few entire pieces — ^perhaps three 
or four of each — in Longfellow, Bryant, and Whittier. 
They could also allege the whole of Poe in extenuation. 
Of him it may be said, he approaches more nearly the es- 
sential feeling of the poetic than any other person — inso- 
much that he is a poet, even to a " t." But Longfellow's 
wretched mass of diluted stuff in " Hiawatha" and " Miles 
Standish's Courtship," where he tries to make the plain, 
old, coarse Puritan court in hexameters, as well as the 
entire train of "female contributors," would nonsuit the 
Muses and clear the court, non die. Keats' observation is 
both true and just, "that if poetry does not come as natur- 
ally to one as the leaves' on the trees, it had better not come 
at all." Poetry doubtless will come to us after a while, 
when our youthhood and our present shall have assumed 
the mellow dignity of the past, and the mind, sated with 
the present, requires the moonlight of memories — the faded, 
withered wreaths that grew carelessly and unheeded around 
the soul as she grew up, and ere thought had succeeded 
to action. When we cease to work and begin to feel, and 
suffer, then poetry will come from the crushed, withered 
heart, as the odor from the flower. 

We arrived in Dublin last night at ten o'clock, by rail ; 
this day being November 1st. The distance is one hun- 
dred and sixty-four miles. The full moon was shining 
brightly, and shedding her mysterious light on ivy-clasped 
ruins of abbeys and castles given up to decay ; these be- 
ing as numerous as waterfalls are in Switzerland. The 
country presented the same succession of fine soil and vari- 
egated scenery of hill, plain, bog, and moor and moun- 
tain; but the people were not. One would think the 
country thinly peopled. A true census of Ireland would 
probably show a reduction of the population by three or 
four millions. 

We saw a few villages — all of which, no matter how 



lEELAND. 259 

small, filthy or mean — had many houses, on the doors of 
which was inscribed "Licensed to sell spirits," as if they 
were fully determined to be sure of that at all events, and 
the condition of some way -passengers who got into the 
cars occasionally, showed that the license was not in vain. 
We saw, also, a continuation of those indescribably dirty, 
and forlorn-looking hovels, in which the inhabitants seem 
caricatures of human beings. Two of the unhappy towns 
in the midst of the great bog of Allen, are spoken of thus : 

" Great bog of Allen swallow down, 
That odious heap called Phillipstown, 
And if thy maw can swallow more, 
Pray take, and welcome, Tullangore." 

Ireland, upon the whole one of the most beautiful coun- 
tries in the world, is not a pleasant one to travel in. Even 
the best towns have many parts appallingly dirty. It is true 
a tourist is not obliged to go into these parts ; yet he 
would see but little of a country, who confined himself to 
the precincts of his hotel. But beseeching beggars are met 
everywhere, and their condition is often more eloquent 
than their words. Some have implored me to buy them a 
piece of bread. '' I'm real hungry," said one to me this 
evening ; ''I have had no food since last night," and much 
more of the same kind of talk. A sixpence astonished 
her. Said she, " May the Lord bless your honor, and keep 
your honor, and make your honor a happy man." The 
beggars avail themselves of the whole storehouse of Heaven 
to reward you. It is pleasant to give to those that know 
you not, and whom you will never meet again. There is 
a peculiar pleasure in bestowing a small gift on the ex- 
tended palm of a blind man. Most Americans give ; but 
Englishmen do not, lest, as they say, they would be en- 
couraging beggary. This is absurd. Beggary is an insti- 
tution, and charity is a principle in the heart, which, but 



260 DUBLIN. 

for it, could have no operation. It is best, however, to be 
one's own almoner, and give discerningly. There are 
those in these countries that can live in no other way than 
by beggary — the old, the crippled, and the unfortunate. 
Giving to them is it's own " exceeding great reward," and 
in bestowing a small donation from our superfluity, to 
bring a smile into the face of the blind or the widow, or 
render their wretched life a little more tolerable, the donor is 
the donee. Some contemptible sap -headed simpleton, some 
dog-hearted wretch, may say that beggary is the conse- 
quence of actual or former vice ; that nobody in any coun- 
try need be a beggar, and that what is bestowed on them 
is spent in drink. He had better be sure he never spent 
money himself for base and unworthy purposes, before 
he censures a hungry beggar, who might spend a cent or 
two in creating a little artificial happiness in the midst of 
his misery and degradation. The excuses that are made 
are only to conceal the close miserly grasping heart within. 
Benevolence does not stop to investigate the causes of the 
distress it sees in sufferance before it, and administer a 
lecture on the relations of things. Every man has had 
beggars in his ancestry, up to Adam. Some say, let them 
go to the poor or work-house. The feeling of being 
obliged to go to such places is no doubt more degrading, 
more disgraceful, in the mind of a beggar, than to solicit 
in person a little charity, or boldly to beg. It would be 
better to be mistaken in four-fifths of our alms-giving than 
never to give at all ; and some who refuse to give may be 
denying a debt their ancestors owe to the beggars' ances- 
tors. It is pleasant to the beggar to have a little money, 
and to buy for oneself the bread one eats. The true 
charity is to do good as one has opportunity. 

Dublin is really a splendid city, almost worthy to be 
the capital of an independent Irish kingdom. Many of 
the streets look like some of the better parts of London, 



DUBLIN. 261 

composed of regular^ ■aniform, dark -looking brick edifices. 
We have spent some days here Clontarf, is near the city, 
next to the sea. Here Brien Boroimhe fought his last 
battle against the Danes — defeated them, and lost his life in 
1014. No traces remain of the encounter. The sea views 
here are splendid — the hill of Howth projecting a long 
way into the sea — and the various ruins and bridges around. 
The Phoenix Park is a very interesting place to make an 
excursion to — occupying an undulating eminence, planted 
with trees, and having most rich and lovely prospects of 
the gently sloping mountains of Wicklow on the south, em- 
bracing the ^^ Sweet vale of Avoca" in their bosom. The 
park has an imposing monument to Lord Wellington. 
The form of it is a quadrangular truncated obelisk of 
Wicklow granite, on the four sides of which are inscribed 
the names of all his victories, except Waterloo, as if the 
duke's claims there admitted of some doubt. This is evi- 
dently done with some design, as the names of some of the 
duke's victories, which are only known to his admirers, 
and probably were unknown to himself, are on it. The 
grounds are extensive. There is a monument to Lord Ches- 
terfield. There are many specimens of live animals ; there 
are some white-tailed eagles. Moore's monument, recently 
inaugurated, is on a low pedestal. The statue of the poet 
on it represents him more as a heavy, well-fed Dutchman, 
than any thing else. This is near Trinity College, and not 
far distant is an equestrian statue of William III., Prince 
of Orange, which looks like a crowned wild Indian. Trin- 
ity College itself is one of the most interesting places in all 
Ireland. The building itself is very extensive, and in ad- 
mirable taste. It contains a museum, in which I noticed an 
ancient Irish harp, said to have belonged to Brian Boroimhe. 
It is small, and some portions having been lost have been 
awkwardly repaired. It is interesting on account of its 
antiquity, and even the suspicion of having belonged to 



262 DUBLIN. 

that stern old Irish king — unlettered, but brave, generouS; 
and chivalrous-souled, gives it value. There are here some 
of those very singular Druid stones, which are scattered 
all over the three kingdoms. This one is in the form of a 
column, two feet in diameter, and four or five feet high, 
tapering toward the top, and on the corners are inscriptions 
in the Ogham characters, which is a kind of alphabet of 
straight lines in various attitudes, representing letters, 
which some have thought they had deciphered. It is sup- 
posed to have been used by the Druids prior to the intro- 
duction of Christianity into Ireland. There are here some 
"cromlechs," or sun-altars. It is undeniable that there was 
a Christianity in Ireland prior to Catholicism and Protest- 
antism, from some remains here. St. Patrick's Cathedral, 
in the older part of the city, is one of the venerable build- 
ings of Ireland, being some fourteen hundred years old. 
One of the reasons why traveling in Europe is interesting, 
is because you can trace the different and successive era,s 
and periods of religion and government. You can see how 
and when they lived and died. In America there are as 
yet few eras — few revolutions. These grand old Gothic 
churches belong to the period of Catholic domination, 
though now used for Protestant service. Much of this 
building seems a restoration on the old foundation. It is 
grand as only Catholic churches can be, with its pillars, 
towers, tombs, and general ghostliness. St. Patrick founded 
it on the preceding one, on the site of one of the holy Irish 
wells, where he baptized his converts. Christ Church is 
also a very extensive, but more modern building, with per- 
ishing and dubious monuments to the memory of those 
who were great, but now are dust. The Danes are said to 
have built the vaults ; and St. Patrick, who seems to have 
been a good kind of Saint generally, celebrated mass in 
one of them. In the Exchange are some statues — one, a 
very impressive one of Daniel 0' Council, represented as 



DUBLIN. 263 

delivering an oration, and holding a scroll in his hand on 
which is inscribed ''^Repeal of the Union." Of late there 
have been divers demonstrations, placards, and other things, 
showing very clearly that Ireland — I mean the Irish part 
of it — would enact the recent course of India, if there were 
any hope of success. The Celt is not thoroughly united 
to the English, and cannot be. They are a different people ; 
more fiery, and impulsive ; they are quicker and warmer in 
love and hate ; not so cold, calculating, persevering. Ire- 
land groans in her vassalage yet, and clanks her chains as 
her children are ousted from their soil; but she can do 
nothing, the fire of independence is burning out : and per- 
haps it is better as it is. Ireland will become a pasture 
ground to fatten sheep and cattle on for the English no- 
bility. The Irish will recreate in a new soil — what they 
cannot originate in Ireland, they will find in progress in 
America. From the Western coast of Ireland, (near Gal- 
way,) may be seen at times (so they say) the Enchanted 
Islands — the Irish heaven — where St. Patrick comes back 
again, and the myth becomes a man. It is an allegory of 
America, which shares the warmth of an Irishman's 
heart with the O'Donoghue, the O'Brien, and the gloriousness 
of the past. And it is a better and healthier feeling. Na- 
tions decay and degrade on their own soil, after a term of 
centuries, but are rarely regenerated thereon. Laborers can- 
,^ot and should not remain on a soil where they receive but 
ten cents a day, the women seven and eight cents, (as was 
the case in Ireland until recently, since which the great 
emigration and reduction of population have nearly doubled 
the above rates,) where life must live in filthy mud-huts, 
and where utmost exertion is barely adequate to get bread, 
and where the owners of the lands prefer sheep to men. 
Let them go to the great West of America, where, what- 
ever may be the conduct of unprincipled demagogues, is 
the only place, either in earth's past or present, where the 



264 DUBLIN. 

mind, tlie soul, and the efforts of man to better his condi- 
tion are essentially free and successful. There they will 
find an Enchanted Island, which does not disappear with 
the mirage of the morning. The Law Courts of Dublin 
are interesting to visit. The lawyers differ much in ap- 
pearance from those of America — having a peculiar cos- 
tume, long gowns and gray wigs. The judges wear a gilt 
uniform, and their gray wigs come down to their shoulders. 
They sit in small rooms adjoining a large rotunda. The pres- 
ence of so many snowy-looking gentlemen is an interesting 
sight. The ermine on their wigs is intended to indicate 
the purity of their intentions — the lawyers being slightly 
pure, and the judges a great deal more, having larger and 
whiter wigs. Excepting the frequent recurrence of " My 
lord," and "• Your lordships," the method of procedure is 
very similar to that in America. The judges, however, in 
proceeding to their rooms, have a stately procession around 
the rotunda. Dublin has about two hundred and fifty -four 
thousand inhabitants, and is about eleven miles in circuit. 
The finest view of it is that on Carlisle Bridge, which 
spans the river Liffey, on which the city is built, the view 
embracing the magnificent Sackville street, with its lofty 
column to Lord Nelson, the quays of granite on the banks 
of the river, and the thousands of masts seaward. There 
is a long sea wall or pier extending three miles out to sea. 
The Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, who resides in this citj^ 
keeps up a kind of kingly court here. Some of the squares 
in Dublin are beautiful — those of St. Stephen's Grreen, and 
the Duke of Rutland's Gardens in particular. 

But adieu to old Ireland with her fertile soil, fine cli- 
mate, and mournful ruins of the past. The old Irish Sea 
is trembling beneath our vessel, as we start from Kings- 
town, the port of Dublin, in a steamer for Holyhead, in 
Wales, across these rough, narrow straits. There are the 
hills of Wicklow on one side, and on the other the Hill of 



WALES. 265 

Howtli — with its ruined abbey, and its Druid stones, and its 
ruins of St. Fintin's cliurcli, old. But I have a specialty for 
getting sea-sick, and these short English seas afford a fine 
opening for its exercise. Four hours and a half of this 
cumulation of all horrors are endured. The vessel heaves, 
the sea heaves, and we all heave up. Some are lying on 
the floor in unimaginable distress, the water dashes over 
the deck, and all are miscellaneously miserable. But here 
is the great, bluff, barren coast of Wales, and here is the 
ancient town of Holyhead, with its piers, breakwaters, and 
artificial harbor extending out to the sea, and there are 
patches of sunlight lying on the hedged fields beyond. It 
is sixty- four miles across the strait. One of the breakwater 
piers here is five thousand feet long. Kot far from this are 
the Skerries, a light-house on a barren dreary rock, which, 
on account of the enormous revenue derived from passing 
ships, was sold by the private person to whom it belonged, 
in 1835, for $2,300,000. We are now in Anglesea, in 
North Wales. The Carnarvon mountains are visible. This 
is honest, old-fashioned Wales, where the people rejoice in 
a tremendously long ancestry; in a language without vow- 
els, and in being the true real Britons, whom Julius Caesar 
could not conquer. 

We leave Holyhead by railway for Bangor. There are 
Welsh mountains along the coast — bare fields in the inte- 
rior, or else covered with a coarse grass, called whinege. 
Here and there rises a ruin, or we cross a lake, or rush 
rapidly through a superannuated town. Then we approach 
the Straits of Menai, which the railway crosses by what 
is called the Britannia Tubular Bridge, a singular and 
most ingenious construction. Telford's famous Suspension 
Bridge is a mile or two further off; and then passing 
through a tunnel we enter Bangor, a pleasant old Welsh 
town on the straits, with good hotels, and celebrated as an 
excellent bathing resort in summer. Ensconced in our 



266 WALES. 

hotel we listen to the November winds— November, the 
most unpopular, best abused of all the months. It intro- 
duces us here to firesides and old home associations, all of 
v/hich are pleasant after the rough sea voyage across the 
Irish Sea. 

I have spent a day in Bangor. The scenery here is very 
fine — the fields even yet green, and doubtless in summer 
well cultivated. The Welsh mountains — among them 
Snowdon, the loftiest peak in Wales and England — are in 
view; the Straits of Menai also pass near the town. Here 
is the fine modern castle of Colonel Pennant, called Penn- 
rhyn Castle, with its elegant grounds, its parks, seven miles 
in circuit, fenced with slates ; and near this are extensive 
slate-quarries, owned by Colonel Pennant, whose income 
from them is stated at $300,000 per annum. The slates 
are of excellent quality — some deeply blue, others light 
purple, and the ordinary uses of marble are usurped by it 
here — tomb-stones, steps to houses, fences, roofs, are also 
made of it. But Bangor is chiefly great on bridges — Tel- 
ford's Bridge, five hundred and fifty feet long, one hundred 
and fifty-three feet high, and twenty broad, is a brilliant 
iron creation, suspended in air. There are two carriage- 
ways, paved, and a foot-path between them. The weight 
of iron in the bridge is six hundred and fifty tons. Four 
immense stone towers sustain the sixty-four tiers of iron 
bars on which the bridge is suspended. The other bridge 
carries the railway through a tube of wrought iron, made 
of plates riveted together, self-sustaining, and the whole 
fully as strong and much lighter than solid masses of iron. 
A continuatio^ of the riveted tubes is carried to a tower in 
the middle of the strait ; thence to the other side. Sum- 
mer heat lengthens the whole structure one foot. It is so 
firm that a heavy railway train that I saw passing across 
scarcely moved it. It is fifteen hundred and thirteen feet 
long, fourteen wide (for two tracks), and one hundred and 



WALES. 267 

four high. The total weight is eleven thousand four hundred 
tons. The whole is regarded as one of the greatest triumphs 
of architectural skill of any age. These two bridges in 
the air — the foaming angry straits below them, with its 
rock islands, on which are humble but comfortable-looking 
fishermen's huts— the hedged fields around, the peaked 
mountains of the Snowdon range, the bare barricades of 
hills near Bangor — all give to this scenery an aspect of 
wild sublimity. In one of the houses here I was much 
impressed by a singular portrait, a canvass painting, 
of a man or boy in rags and tatters, and with unshorn 
beard, and intensely occupied with a book. On inquiring 
his history, I was told he was the son of parents in the 
most limited circumstances — had never been at school, nor 
was taught any thing except the letters of the alphabet ; but 
his passion and talent for the acquisition of learning, espe- 
cially languages, became so remarkable, that in a few years 
he was able to speak and read fourteen, and frequently at 
Liverpool and other places, astonished foreigners by ad- 
dressing them in their own tongues. He never acquired 
any property, though some noblemen of the country inter- 
ested themselves in his behalf; his associates were of ^e 
lowest order, his only pleasure appearing to be to ramble 
about the mountains intently absorbed in reading, books 
being everywhere furnished him ; he did not become dissi- 
pated; considerable sums were offered him to locate in 
respectable families — all of which he declined, and finally 
died in a ditch, about the age of fifty, his great talent for 
learning languages being the only part of his mind that 
was developed ; one of those rare instances which Nature 
sometimes produces of a single talent in excess. 

Leaving Bangor I proceeded through North Wales. On 
the right are the high, steep, bare mountains, those of 
Penmaen-Mawr — on the left is the sea, and the railway 
passes over a most lovely and gently slope of cultivated 



268 LIVERPOOL. 

land between, with neat houses, and some old towns. Here 
is Conway, with its shattered, battered, ragged, but vener- 
able castle, frowning over the angry flood. It is founded 
on an enormous rock, and there are eight towers, and por- 
tions of it are garmented with ivy. The walls of the city, 
built A. D. 1284, are almost entire, with round massive 
towers at various distances, rising grandly in their decay- 
ing age. Then there is St. Asaph, with its cathedral, which 
is cruciform, with a square embattled tower rising from the 
intersection of the nave and transept ; and the whole has a 
very Gothic and antique appearance. It was first built 
A. D. 596. We next enter Chester — a kind of remaining 
Eoman town, the railway terminus of which, built in the 
Italian style, is the largest in England, and now the million 
of gas-lit eyes of Liverpool glare at us in the misty darkness. 
We cross the Mersey, and are in the midst of the streets 
of the cotton commercial city. In old England again, 
after having gazed on Scotch mists and lakes, and been 
horrified and stupefied with filthy Irish towns and desolate 
bogs, and lone hills, where mourned ivy clad ruins of old 
years, and mute Druid stones. Liverpool is livelier than 
all these — it is of the busy, bustling present — the healthy 
human things of money-making and hoarding are here, 
which are far better than the past things of a thousand 
years of Time's cemetery. Some one says antiquarians 
have heads in ruins like the things they contemplate. It is 
doubtless true, a mental or moral ruin feels a sympathy 
with a material one. 

I have been in Liverpool several days. It has about 
three hundred and seventy-six thousand inhabitants, stand- 
ing fronting the Irish Sea, near the mouth of the Mersey 
River, and is said to be about in the centre of the British 
Islands. The name is thought by some to be a corruption 
of " Lower Pool." The site of the city is on a slope of 
red sandstone. The docks are artificial harbors, extending 



LIVERPOOL. 269 

five miles along ttie river. Some of tliem are five hundred 
yards long, one hundred and sixty wide, and cover a space 
of thirteen acres. There are also floating piers. There are 
twenty-one docks ; they will hold fifteen hundred sail, and 
enclose two hundred acres of water. About two million 
bales of raw cotton are imported here from America. The 
city covers a space of seven or eight square miles. One of 
the finest halls in all England, if not the finest, is here— 
St. George's Hall. It is six hundred feet long, one hundred 
and seventy broad, and is surrounded by Grecian columns 
of most magnificent proportions. The building cost 
$1,000,000. I attended a concert here on the organ, which 
was a poor affair, many thousand leagues behind that I 
heard at Friburg. St. James' Cemetery, in the centre of 
the city, in an old stone-quarry, is a very pretty and at- 
tractive spot, with some monuments and some tombs in 
the rocks. Lord Brougham, who is exceedingly popular 
in this city, is here at present — he delivered an address in 
the Mechanics' Hall. He appears to be near eighty— has a 
noble, strong, not handsome Scotch face, and when enter- 
ing the hall received the cheers with which he was met 
with some embarrassment; perhaps he recollected that 
Cicero says a good orator always feels embarrassed at the 
commencement of his oration. "We leave the peat fires of 
Ireland and here have coal again, and we feel in a different 
atmosphere— a kind of coarse complaining British energy 
is everywhere felt around one. They are a great people, 
but not a lively or a polished people— these English. 
Their energy is not the impulsive kind of the Irish or 
French, or of the Southern States of America, but is per- 
severing, cold, effectual, firm. They are rough and self- 
satisfied in theory, but never admit it. Living in a 
detestable climate they have become detestable themselves. 
Yet the Englishman always means well rudely. He is a 
silent Yankee, who is too proud, sulky, and indifferent 

x2 



270 CHESTER. 

to interrogate you endlessly. He has plenty of blood 
and beef, and though he is lower in the pleasing virtues 
than some three or four of the nations of Europe, he is 
higher in the substantial ones than all of them. 

But adieu to Liverpool. We resume our route toward 
London, but stop some hours in the old and singular town 
of Chester, once a Eoman station, or castrum^ from whence 
its name is derived. It has about one hundred and twenty- 
eight thousand inhabitants, and gives one of his titles to the 
Prince of Wales, who is Earl of Chester. It is on the river 
Dee, thirteen miles from Liverpool. The pastures around 
here are very fine. Here are fed the cattle from which are 
made the famous Cheshire cheese, which weigh from sixty 
to one hundred and sixty pounds. The pastures were at 
one time nearly worn out, but were renovated with bone 
dust. I walked around the old walls, from some points of 
which there are fine views into Wales. The top of the wall 
on which you walk is near six feet broad, and it is said they 
were built by the daughter of King Alfred. Where the 
cliff overhangs the river, the height is fifty or sixty feet. 
I also entered the old Castle, now a place for barracks. It 
was built- by the nephew of William the Conqueror. There 
is a very curious and interesting old chapel here, ivy-grown, 
like that at Killaloe. The old guide took us around and 
showed us the tombs, etc., and falsified history in the man- 
ner the guides usually do, who confound various incidents 
and chronologies. It is probable that ancient history is fully 
as reliable as modern history. In this newspaper age the 
accounts of a single recent transaction are often so numerous 
and conflicting — each person publishing a statement accord- 
ing to his own impressions — that one can scarcely weigh 
their various verities. In earlier times there would proba- 
bly be but one account, and that a true one. 

We left Chester; and soon after the line enters Wales 
again, and we pass by some of the loveliest scenery I ever 



ENGLAND. 271 

saw : the Yallev of the Dee, the Yale of Llangollen, in 
Wales, the Trevor Hills, the distant retreating slopes, 
must always be among the delicioe of memory. The view 
from the great Viaduct embraces a slope of mountains dotted 
with white cottages of Welsh peasants, with terraces also, 
the tops of the mountains being serrated and wooded, and 
sometimes castellated. The Yiaduct consists of nineteen 
arches, sixty feet span, one hundred and forty-eight feet 
above the river Dee, and is fifteen hundred and thirty-two 
feet long. The Yale of Llangollen is said to equal that of 
the Ehine in beauty ; and, undoubtedly, some one or two 
miles of it equals any thing on the Ehine. Some of the 
names of churches here are not the most easy words in the 
world to pronounce. The following is a specimen: "Collen 
ap Givynnawg ap Llyddwg ap Couvrda ap Caradoc Treich- 
fas ap Lleyn Merion ap Enion Yuth ap Cunedda Wle- 
dig ! ! !" The Yale of Langollen looks more like a " Happy 
Yalley" than any place I have seen. Our route proceeded 
to Shrewsbury. Many of these places are interesting in 
English history, and to us also; for we did not start up 
fully grown on the 4th of July, 1776, and commence as- 
serting that all "men had certain inalienable rights, amongst 
which were life, liberty," etc. No; we had an ancestry 
before that. The men of England — Bacon, Shakspeare, 
Addison, Pope, etc. — the history of England, up to the time 
of the Eevolution, belongs as much to us as to Old England ; 
and the sacred, classic, and historic regions of England, 
and the events prior to 1776, are common property — with 
them and us. It is our own history we read before that 
time, and America is but the culmination of what began in 
England — produced her revolutions, expelled Catholicism, 
enacted Protestantism, and did high-handed and brave- 
hearted things generally. The glory of England is ours 
too; though within the last hundred years we have been 
diverging and setting up for ourselves, by way of letting 



272 STEATFOED-ON-AVON. 

our respected motlier country "know we are out." She 
was too slow for us. 

Shrewsbury is a real old "Welsh town. It has about 
twenty thousand inhabitants. It is on the Severn Eiver. 
The great Keep, or Castle, and part of the walls built by 
an adherent of the Conqueror, yet remain. There are 
numerous spires of churches ; many picturesque old Eliza- 
bethan buildings. Our route lay from this to Leamington, 
a pleasant watering-place, where we abode for several days, 
passing in our course a number of seats, and castles, in this 
the finest part of England. Leamington is contiguous to 
many interesting places. It has a population of sixteen 
thousand. The shops are numerous and elegant, and the 
waters have medicinal virtues. Warwick town and castle 
— the latter one of the most celebrated and best preserved 
in England — are within. a mile. The castle is built on the 
banks of the Avon — is surrounded by a high, strong wall, 
and is half hid in rich shrubbery and ivy, out of which its 
towers rise in venerable aristocratic grandeur. The present 
Earl of Warwick, who resides in the castle with his two 
sisters, fair and elegant girls, whom I met riding out, are not 
descendants of the famous king-making Warwick, whose 
offspring are not now numbered among the nobility of 
England. There are two towers, one called Grey's, and the 
other Cesar's; a drawbridge, below which is the moat; 
there are battlemented walls, large windows, Eoman sculp- 
ture, ancient armor, and some fine paintings within the 
castle. But within twelve miles of Leamington is Strata 
ford-on- Avon, the burial and birth-place of the greatest 
uninspired genius of the Teutonic race. The road passes 
through the town of Warwick, then over a most lovely 
and green country in high cultivation; hedges, fields, 
planted groves, and in some places glimpses of most beau- 
tiful scenery ; the winding Avon tracked by the willows on 
its banks, the Malvern hills in the distance forming a land- 



STKATFORD-ON-AVON. 273 

scape essentially English, and perhaps found in no other 
country. At length we are in the town, a small one, about 
four thousand inhabitants, in which Shakspeare was born, 
April 23, 1564. A stroll along the street brings us to the 
house — a low two-story ancient-looking wooden tenement. 
It is at present vacant, being undergoing what are called 
restorations, that is bringing it back to its former appear- 
ance as much as possible. It is a very irregular and ex- 
ceedingly ugly house. It is understood it is to be enclosed 
in a glass case, and preserved from further decay. The 
old caretaker, living near, takes us through the principal 
rooms — some of which have the names of numerous visit- 
ors, including kings as well as commoners, scribbled on 
the walls and windows ; not a few of the names are Amer- 
ican ones — one or two of our Presidents, Washington Ir- 
ving, IST. P. Willis, Barnum, etc. The latter offered $10,000 
for the house, intending to transport it to America, and 
exhibit it as a speculation. This aroused all England, and 
a company was formed who purchased it, one of their 
number, Sir John Shakspeare, claiming collateral descent 
from the poet, having bequeathed $10,000 for rescuing it 
from decay. Formerly it had long been kept as a tavern. 
There are about ten rooms in the house. The fire-places 
are very large and old-fashioned, and by their side we may 
imagine Shakspeare seated, v/hen a boy, with the shadows 
of ideas forming within him, which in after life were to 
develop into glorious written realities. He was the oldest 
of eight children. Of his early days very little is known, 
less perhaps than of the early days of any one who has so 
largely realized fame. His father was once sheriff of this 
county. The greater part of his youth was perhaps spent 
in roving, by which means he acquired his extraordinary 
knowledge of human nature. His education was imper- 
fect; he married yonng; he was accused of poaching deer 
on the domains of Thomas Lucy, near Stratford; he re- 
18 



274 SHAKSPEARE. 

venged himself by a satire on Lucy, said to have been 
mercilessly severe, (his first essay in the art poetic, per- 
haps) ; he went to London, became a prompter at the 
theatre, acted also. It was in London that his plays were 
written and acted in his own theatre, and he became the 
favorite of many wits, and his friends were amongst the 
highest in rank, and even Queen Elizabeth noticed him 
favorably. Acquiring considerable emoluments he returned 
to his native place,, and died on his fifty-third birth-day. 
His wife, who was eight years older than he, survived him. 
His regard for her does not appear to have been very great, 
as she resided at Stratford during the long period of his 
residence in London, and he mentions her only slightly in 
his will. His goodness of heart and honesty were, it is 
said, remarkable; he was of a handsome prescDce, and 
very good company. Without doubt, his dramatic writ- 
ings surpass those of all ages and countries, in thorough, 
brief, and true, and consistent delineation of human char- 
acter, as well as in variety and interest. That kind of 
writing, however, is not the highest, but in it Shakspeare 
stands unrivaled. His mother was of a much more ancient 
family than his father, and was probably a lady of large 
and varied mind and genuine heart. A walk of three 
quarters of a mile, through the old village, brought us to 
the church. This is a large and impressive-looking edifice. 
Around it creeps the green ivy, and around are the dead 
of all names and ages, sleeping, some of them, for several 
hundreds of years, forgotten even by the unfaithful stone to 
which their names and virtues were entrusted. A noble 
avenue of elms, with their now fading foliage, leads up to 
the church. At one end of it is the beautiful Avon, mur- 
muring and meandering through meadows. The stones of 
which the church is built are gray, and mossy with age. 
Entering you discover a large interior, and it is well 
lighted with narrow high windows, some of which have 



SHAKSPEARE. 275 

painted glass. You hasten on, walking on tombstones, flat 
and smooth — others with effigies and inscriptions, till you 
enter the choir of this cruciform Gothic church. The sexton 
unrolls a carpet on the floor, and you see a large, flat, old- 
looking stone, under which rest the remains of Shakspeare. 
His wife and two daughters are beside him. The singular 
epitaph, in its old English spelling and style, carved on the 
stone, meets your eye, as follows : — 

*'Good frend, for Jesus' sake forbeare 
To dig the dust encloased heare ; 
Bleste "bee j^ man y* spares thes stones, 
And curst Ibe liee y* moves my bones." 

At one end of the choir, near this stone, is a small mon- 
ument to the poet, on which are some interesting lines by 
Ben Jonson. Shakspeare died in 1616, more than two 
hundred and forty years ago. The family in the direct line 
were all extinct in the second generation. One loves to 
linger around this place. There is a delicate tracery in the 
old monkish windows, and a '' dim religious light" on the 
antique stained glass, and there is a strange charm in stand- 
ing near the dust that contained such a mind as that which 
composed Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello, the Tem- 
pest, with their wealth of wisdom and their world of living ; 
that mind which lived in nor was exhausted by so many 
characters. The guide now shows you the Visitors' Book, 
that you may add your name to the many, now filling sev- 
eral volumes. You see some distinguished names — Fill- 
more, Yan Buren, Irving, Willis, Bremer, and others. 
But we pay our guide the expected fee, and depart from 
the regions of the murmuring, meadow-bounded Avon, and 
from the old church, where sleep the remains of him who 
is more quoted perhaps than any other merely human 
writer. We return through the scenes of peaceful, con- 
tented, and rather dull and ancient England, to Warwick, 



276 KENIL WORTH. 

the old town with its gate, towers built on rock; its grey 
churches and remnants of old walls, and its grand castle 
rising out of a sea of shrubbery like an isle of Time. An 
organ-grinder is filling the streets with melody as we pass 
in the dim dusk of the evening — the old castle, burdened 
with its past history, its present beauty and adornments, 
realizing the heroic strains of music. 

But to-day I have been over another scene of England — 
along the fine roads, each one having a fine foot-path bor- 
dered with hedges and rows of stately elms — the church 
bells of Leamington melting into a mere echo behind — all a 
scene of England's green fields, and especially those lovely, 
grassy lanes and old hills. It must be confessed that the 
real Englishman, such as you meet him on the soil, in this 
the centre of England, is a decidedly rough, boorish, and 
rather insensate, beer-drinking, beefy specimen of humanity, 
with but few ideas and no poetry whatever. But here is 
indeed a grand ruin — the Castle of Kenilworth, A high 
wall, with several towers, outside of which is a large moat, 
or ditch, appears to have surrounded the grounds ; near the 
centre of which is another thick and lofty wall, which sur- 
rounded the castle : which latter is a mass of walls and 
stones, carved ceilings, ruined rooms, and ivy. The narrow, 
arched stone window-frames are many of them entire; and 
some of the rooms are still pointed out as those which 
Queen Elizabeth occupied in the days when the Earl of 
Leicester was in his greatness and magnificence, and thought 
"his glory was arising." One is also shown as that in which 
his wife, the unfortunate Amy Kobsart, was murdered. The 
mantle of past wickedness seems resting on the hoary ruin. 
Yet it is grand in its decay. The walls are yet high, and 
the court-yards, which the extensive wings of the castle 
embrace, are large and grassy ; but trees grow among the 
ruins, and grass has found a resting place on all the walls ; 
and desolation and slow decay have intruded into the halls 



OXFORD. 277 

where once all was gayety and royalty. The castle is un- 
inhabited, though it has had a thousand years of history. 
Small and mean farm houses are around it, in one of which 
lives the dull old gatekeeper. In old times it had its chapel, 
where burnt the perpetual torch lights over the remains of 
its founder. The castle has been a royal residence — a fort- 
ress — and has sustained a six months' siege. There is near it 
a tilt and tournament yard, in which chivalrous games were 
enacted in old. The expense of the entertainment which 
the earl gave the queen, whom he hoped to marry, exceeded 
five thousand dollars per day. The castle is situated od a rock, 
and the circuit within its walls embraces seven acres. It was 
all built of freestone, hewn and cut ; walls in many places 
fifteen feet thick ; and it was all covered with lead. Crom- 
well gave it to some of his of&cers, who dismantled it and 
reduced it to ruin. It now belongs to the Earl of Claren- 
don. During Queen Elizabeth's visit to the castle, in 1575 
the festivities lasted sevei^een days. There were drunk 
three hundred and twenty hogsheads of beer: the daily con- 
sumption of wine was sixteen hogsheads, and forty hogs- 
heads of beer ; and ten oxen were slaughtered every morn- 
ing. The clock pointed always to two, the hour for dining; 
and every hour had a new amusement, for the queen's 
diversion. There was once a lake surrounding two sides 
of the castle, which has long since been drained, and I 
walked over the luxuriant meadows now on its site. 

But the railway has now brought us some miles fur- 
ther to Oxford, having sojourned in and near Leamington 
some days. Oxford is a singular city — the architecture of 
each house indicating a different century ; each having its 
own style. The projecting cornices and eaves of the old 
cities of the Continent are here. It is the city of colleges, 
and churches, and halls ; the stones of all which are in rags 
and tatters, for Time has done his work on them. It is 
indeed an interesting city. You walk among ancient build- 

Y 



278 OXFORD. 

ings; streets of colleges, with grassy court-yards; walks 
and promenades, surrounded by thick, ivy-grown walls, 
and laid out in avenues of elms. Here, in one street, is the 
*' Martyr's Memorial," a beautiful Gothic Monument, erected 
to Bishops Latimer and Kidley and Archbishop Cranmer ; 
and near it is the spot where they were burnt, in the days 
of Catholic domination, under Queen Mary, when Cranmer 
thrust the right hand with which he had, in the hope of 
saving his life, signed a recantation of Protestantism, into 
the fire and burnt it off, saying, " This hand has offended !" 
I entered the Bodleian Library, one of the most celebrated 
in England, having numerous old, new, and rare manu- 
scripts. I saw the lantern of Guy Fawkes, conspirator; 
the fac simile of the death warrant of King Charles L ; a 
most beautiful model of an East Indian under -ground 
palace, intended for summer; 'many models of ancient tem- 
ples ; some fine portraits ; writings in Sanscrit, Arabic, 
Chinese, and many singular an(J ingenious works ; missals ; 
rare copies of the Bible, ornamented by the monks with 
illuminated margins. There are also here some rare works: 
the famous Arundelian Marbles, brought from Athens, and 
of vast use in chronology. Near this is the Hall, with its 
historical associations, in which King Charles I. held his 
Parliament. The antique glass of some of the churches is 
almost equal in beauty to some on the Continent. Oxford 
has nineteen colleges, about six halls, which are somewhat 
similar to the colleges in their arrangements; and at present 
there are about two thousand students, who are distin- 
guished by their peculiar gowns and square caps. There 
is more servility on the part of the people here to young 
and spendthrift noblemen, whose extravagances and follies 
almost support the town, than in any place I have ever 
seen. The population of Oxford is about twenty-six thou- 
sand. The course of study is but little more extensive, and 
probably not any more thorough, than in many of our 



LONDON. 279 

American colleges. Poor scholars and charity students 
have vast facilities in these magnificent surroundings, libra- 
ries, etc. The wealthy and titled contrive to pass the awk- 
ward years between boyhood and manhood here. The 
Oxford divines are celebrated for their learning. I heard 
one of them, who appeared to comprehend fully the learning 
of the Bible without knowing much of its religion. 

Back again in London, however, after an absence of 
thirty-five days, in which, with regular American speed, we 
have been almost over all England, Scotland, and Ireland 
— have been in the classic and romantic Edinburgh, among 
the misty Scotch lakes and highlands, the surges that dash 
around the Giant's Causeway, in the North of Ireland, and 
among its bogs and miserable villages ; and also in its 
charmed scenery at the Lakes of Killarney, and among its 
green and grass-grown ruins. With the facilities now 
afforded by rapid railway traveling, and a skillful arrange- 
ment of our time, we have had enough leisure to carry 
away a distinct impression of each place. In London 
again — that city where are miles of prostitutes and leagues 
of wretches in want, mothers who sit in the cold with their 
almost naked babes, at the base of temples, palaces, and 
banks costing millions. I left Oxford at twelve o'clock 
yesterday. The railway lies through one of the best parts 
of England — passed the ancient town of Reading, saw its 
ruins of walls, towers, churches, all of which fled by like 
a dream " when one awaketh ;" also the many green fields, 
parks, elegant, old, and in the centre of which stand the 
stately, ancestral homes of comfortable England. Arriving 
in London at half-past two o'clock, found it foggy, gas-lit, 
and Lord Mayor's day, and there was a grand procession. 
The millions of London were in the streets in all their 
might. London is the most pitiable and affecting presenta- 
tion of greatness in the world. In the procession were first 
the Marine boys, then drummers. City Marshal, trumpet- 



280 CKySTAL PALACE. 

ers, Sheriff in his carriage and with out-riders ; then the 
city flag, other carriages, footmen, men in armor in the 
style of the olden, horsemen, ex Lord Mayor, soldiers, City 
Chamberlain, servants, yeomen, sword-bearer, Lady May- 
oress, men in armor, trumpeters, servants, and beef-eaters ; 
Lord Mayor in his state carriage, drawn by six horses. 
This was the procession, besides the myriads who seemed 
to have here nothing to eat, and the fog, which really 
seemed an omnipresent, important personage ; it exceeded 
all fogs in denseness, dreadfulness, dullness. The fogs on 
the Mississippi Kiver, into which one may drive a nail and 
hang his hat thereon, are not to be compared to the poten- 
tial fogdom of London. It is a fog that may be felt. Yet 
the British seem to thrive on it — to glorify and appetize on 
it, drink beer in consequence, and consider it an established 
institution. London is a great and astonishing fact — an 
immenseness. It is an epitome of all human nature in ac- 
tion. I have been in it for a few days, revisiting some 
places and visiting some new ones. The Crystal Palace, 
which I have visited, is all a delight. It is about twenty 
miles from London, at Sydenham. As you approach it by 
railway, and the grand, extensive, but light and elegant 
construction appears in sight, you are tempted into invol- 
untary admiration. It is a structure of glass and iron — a 
frame of iron resting on a solid foundation. It is in length 
eighteen hundred feet, width four hundred feet ; the centre 
transept is one hundred and seventy-eight feet high, the tow- 
ers two hundred and thirty -five feet high. You enter by a 
flight of steps in the south wing, and when arrived at the 
nave the view is unrivalled. It is a city in glass. When 
within you are charmed by the variety and interest of its 
presentations. It covers several acres, and a village may 
be said to be employed, and derive subsistence within. 
There are cotton manufactures in the basement. There are 
all kinds of shops, retailing porcelain, jewels, pictures, and 



CRYSTAL PALACE. 281 

industrial displays, insomuch that you seem walking 
through a street in Paris or Brussels. There are trees and 
plants of all kinds and climes ; there are reservoirs of 
water, in which aquatic plants survive ; rare mosses ; there 
are giant specimens of trees from California, and flowers of 
all hues of loveliness, the air here being at all times kept 
at a uniform temperature. There are restaurants here for 
first, second, and third classes of people — elegant concerts 
also, and theatrical rooms, in which fine bands perform 
each day. I heard a splendid concert given the day I was 
there. The productions of the vegetable kingdom to be 
seen here are very beautiful and strange. You have summer 
birds sporting and singing around on evergreen boughs. 
You have lakes of water, specimens of mankind of all 
races, Egyptian and Chinese halls, whose statuary, and in- 
scriptions, and sphynxes, and numerous works of art, cop- 
ies of old works, make you think you are in some restored 
temple of the past. The statuary — some copies, others 
original — are from all countries, as also paintings and draw- 
ings, all of which are exhibited in the best light, in the long 
and lofty avenues for promenading. The building itself is 
almost as great a wonder as its contents. It is four or five 
stories high, and seems a wondrous combination of iron 
frames, into which are set long, narrow glass plates, more 
than realizing an Eastern or Arabic dream of romance, 
and uniting wondrous lightness and elegance with solidity 
and strength. There are two towers of the same materials 
as the palace — some seven or eight stories high, which are 
principally used as fountains to supply the jets of water 
in the grounds around ; these latter are adorned with ter- 
races and flights of steps, cascades and colonnades, shrub- 
bery also, and miniature crystal palaces. The ancestors 
of the British built massive towers and castles, with walls 
twelve or eighteen feet thick, which descend to the present 
age as objects of mouldering majesty and wonder. But 

y2 



282 LONDON. 

here is a direct contrast, wonderful in its apparent unsubstan- 
tiality — a vast hot-house — but no clangor of arms, no heavy 
portcullis, no dungeon keeps are here. It is a scene of peace- 
ful, elegant life ; crowds of ladies and gentlemen prome- 
nade or listen to musiC; or admire statues — ^all is practical, 
modern, pounds, shillings, and pence, useful money invest- 
ing. It is truly astonishing how much can be got for a 
shilling, the price of admission. The world changes as it 
grows older. The great old thing called earth casts up 
things of many kinds as it progresses onward, and there is 
a constant giving out from the womb of the unknown to 
the world of the known. 

I have revisited Westminster Abbey, that most impres- 
sive monument of grand death, where the lofty windows 
let in decomposed light that falls sadly on the gray and 
antique monuments to the dead of renown. It is a sad 
placC; but death is probably less to the dead than to the 
living. They may wonder at our regard for perishable 
dust, and rejoice in the riddance of a body to us so dear, 
even in death. The monuments in the Poets' Corner — 
those in the gorgeous chapel of Henry YII., where repose 
the Kings and Queens of England, with their armorial en- 
signs above them — the long aisles, the ^'dim, religious 
light," the air of solemnity, the silence so greatly con- 
trasted with the noise outside — all make Westminster 
Abbey one of the most impressive places on earth. The 
arches are all Gothic, like two raised hands clasped in 
prayer. The old monks understood the power of external 
surroundings as incentives to devotion, and the production 
of that peculiar, grave, ghostly superstitious Yirgin Mary 
sort of feeling in which they indulged. 

I also visited the Zoological Gardens, which are in Ee- 
gent's Park, and which, besides the more common animals 
of such places, contain some very rare ones. Some of the 
animals are in rustic cottages, in the style of the countries 



LONDON". 283 

they come from. Elephants and torrid-zone animals are 
in cellars, which are kept warm. The birds are of very 
numerous kinds ; the exotic plants are extremely interest- 
ing, and a walk through it is almost like a rapid transit 
over many countries. I also traversed Eegent's Park, 
Green Park, Hyde Park, St. James' Park, in which is all 
the loveliness of greenness, even at this season of the year, 
and in which are elegant equipages and promenades, and 
along which are the palatial residences of England's nobil- 
ity. Eegent street, Oxford street, Pall Mall, Piccadilly, 
are all splendid streets-— the Strand, Fleet, Cheapside, etc., 
are partly in the city proper, and are streets of shop-keep- 
ers. I also saw the numerous monuments — those to Lord 
Nelson, the Duke of York, and others — the Temple Bar or 
Grate across the street, one of the relics of the old fortifica- 
tions of London ; Newgate Prison, Old Bailey, Whitehall, 
in the court-yard of which King Charles I. was beheaded ; 
Marlborough House also, in which is the Yernon collection 
of paintings, and other pictures, the best by Italian mas- 
ters. I also saw ISTorthumberland House, Somerset House, 
and other points of historical and ancestral celebrity. In one 
of the apartments of Marlborough House is shown the im- 
mense black-draped carriage in which the remains of the 
Duke of Wellington were borne to their resting-place. It 
is inscribed with the names of his victories, and there are 
the statues of three black horses before it — the whole being 
a spectacle of stately death. Julien, the Magician of Musi- 
cians, is in London now, with his fifty or sixty minor musi- 
cians, all playing, pulling, drawing, beating, while he, the 
most selfsatisfied looking and complacent of mortals, 
waves his wand like a king of sound, and music springs 
forth as the waters when Moses smote the rock. The en- 
tertainment always terminates with " God save the Queen," 
when all the Englishmen rise — for the Queen, personally 
is more popular than the monarchy. 



284: LONDON. 

London is emphatically the city of the unfortTinate frail 
sisters of humanity. Pleasure is a hard master, for her vo- 
taries seem all the time on the verge of starvation. The 
most Christian and Protestant city in the world has more of 
them, relatively to population, than any other. Few things 
are really more interesting to the sight than a fallen woman. 
They accost you as you walk along the streets — all guises 
and colors of harlotry and whoredom plead with you, on 
your refusal, for a glass of wine or a penny to buy a bis- 
ctiit. Many are from the country, and consider prostitution 
a regular trade — a means of living, they having no other. 
Some are rather pretty, but all are horrid. The army of 
street- walkers, passing up and down the pavements in the 
gas-light, in gaudy colors, leering, looking, accosting men, 
starving, utterly demoralized, with no maidenly female re- 
serve, no heart, no refinement, animalized, short-lived, de- 
based creatures in shape of women, — is the most hideous 
among the memories of London. No man of any sense will 
think, however, that they are any worse than many others. 
No man or woman either can tell what he would be in a 
given train of circumstances, or, when involved in the ser- 
pent coil of temptation, he or she would come out any 
better than others. The most unsophisticated, and most 
simple form of man or woman, is when such man or woman 
thinks himself or herself any better, substantially and in- 
herently, than any other person, even the vilest. The true 
ground is compassion for all unfortunates, effort to ameli- 
orate their condition, and hatred of the vice, and take heed 
that one himself does not fall or do worse, comparatively, 
than they. Many of the small creatures who criminate 
others are negatively virtuous, because never tempted, or 
whom it was not worth while for Satan to tempt, knowing 
a conquest over them would be no glory even to the mean- 
est devil in hell. Others may thank their circumstances 
rather than their strength, that they are secure. But adieu 



HOLLAND. 285 

to Great Britain forever, the fatlierland of America, and 
where the nation loves us yet. A thousand French alliances, 
offensive and defensive; would not make them love the 
French as much as they do us. 'Tis true there are a thou- 
sand leagues (of water) between us, and that may be one 
reason. But blood is thicker than all that water. 

But we are off" again, for the Continent. Life is a travel — 
from one event to another — from one feeling to another — 
from youth to age. We travel through our years — we sail 
from our present into our future. The parts of life are our 
actions and their epochs. The Continent of Europe is far 
more interesting to travelers than the British Islands. We 
are now in Eotterdam — in level Holland, which the Dutch 
have in reality "taken" from the Sea. This is a city of 
canals and commerce, and of high, cleanly -looking brick 
buildings. Its appearance from the water — the river or 
Strait Maas, a sort of frith of the North Sea — is beautiful. 
It is pleasant to stand on the solid Continent again, and 
know you can take a morning walk in one direction at 
least, without coming to the sea. The city is all level, 
and below the surface of the sea. Canals are very numer- 
ous in it, over which are very many bridges. The vernac- 
ular here is again strange — the regular old honest Dutch 
is spoken, but French and English are used by those with 
whom one comes in contact. The continental system of 
examining passports and luggage has again to be submitted 
to. Yesterday morning we left foggy, muggy, murky 
London, in the steamer Fyenord. The fog prevented our 
departure for some hours, and the great number of vessels 
in the muddy Thames rendered our progress afterward very 
slow. But at length we took our last look of the green, 
well cultivated, and beautiful banks of the Thames — passed 
out of its mouth, and were rolling about in the North Sea, 
under the influence of that sensation of unutterable nasti- 
ness, sea-sickness. To-day at twelve, (Friday, Nov. 12th), 



286 HOLLAND. 

we entered the river Maas; saw the low banks of Holland on 
eacli side, with dikes or embankments, keeping out the sea, 
planted with rows of trees, and furnishing pleasant walks ; 
also saw numerous quiet-looking Dutch houses, pleasant 
level meadows, pastures; and those strange features in a 
landscape — windmills — even in the towns are numerous. 

The Datch are a great people. They have warred with 
the sea, and conquered ; and the extensive sea-marsh is now 
rendered, by their embankments, the home of millions. 

Eotterdam is rather a strange-looking city, with its high, 
narrow brick houses, many of which despise the perpendic- 
ular, and lean at many angles, through defect of the founda- 
tion, notwithstanding the piles driven into the sea-soil to 
render their bases firmer. They have numerous and long 
windows, which have mirrors on the outside, inclined so as 
to show what is passing in the streets, or who is entering 
the principal door. Many of the canals are bordered with 
trees, and in some of the streets long rows of houses seem 
to rise out of the water. The Museum of Paintings here is 
very rich. One representing a dead Christ, struck me as 
truly remarkable in its ghastly resemblance to death. The 
Dutch school of painting seems to me to surpass very far all 
I have yet seen in exact, minute, life-like resemblance. 
Most of the merely British or American paintings I have 
seen seem mere daubs in comparison. Those here have that 
under expression, as it were — the real mind and soul that 
lies underneath the flesh — stamped on them, and you read 
it as if it were the outbreathing mind. The Dutch school 
seems pre-eminent in the minute excellence of detail. We 
can conquer forests and subdue Nature, but we cannot paint 
her. Eotterdam has about eighty thousand inhabitants. 
The houses are nearly all of brick, and are five or six sto- 
ries high. 

The great Gothic church of St. Lawrence; the views 
along the Boompjes; the commercial buildings of the Dutch 



HOLLAND. 287 

East India Company ; the singular scenes of the Dutcli 
markets ; the numerous bridges over the canals ; the fine 
statue of Erasmus — he having been a native of this city — 
are the principal scenes which interested me, besides the 
Picture Gallery, in my promenades to-day. French and 
English gold coins pass readily here, but the smaller coins 
of this country are guilders and stivers. The water for 
drinking is very bad. Travelers use English ale, or the 
effervescing water of the Nassau Springs. 

We are now in Hague, thirteen miles from Rotterdam. 
This is certainly one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, 
having numerous parks, or squares, with trees clad in the 
now fading glory of autumn. There are canals also in 
every part of the city, and also large lakes of water, sur- 
rounded by trees and houses, which latter are elegant brick 
residences, numerous windows, with mirrors outside — 
every thing indicating wealth, cleanliness, and comfort. It 
is the capital of Holland, and the residence of the king, one 
of whose gorgeous brick palaces, with its painted cathedral, 
its park and its pleasure-grounds, and fine shrubbery, I 
have visited. The windmills here are numerous. These 
are great towers of brick, about fifty feet high, with four- 
angled wings or flappers of wood, flying around, communi- 
cating a motive power, used in elevating the drowsy water 
of the canals for purposes of health, or irrigation, or drain- 
ing, and also for grinding meal. The weather has become 
clear and sunny at length — quite a rarity, as we saw but 
little of the sun in that kingdom of fog, England. There 
is more ease of address, less pompous reserve, more gayety 
and disposition to oblige; there are tahles d^hote again — and 
French — all of which make one feel he is on the Continent 
once more. 

In coming from Rotterdam here by rail, we passed Schei- 
dam, best known in America by Wolfe's Schnapps; and 
Delft, also celebrated in old times for its pottery ; the trade 



288 HOLLAND. 

in which has now much declined. The country is all level, 
and everywhere intersected by fine canals, which serve for 
fences and divisions of all kinds — each field being parted 
by long, straight ditches — the surface of the soil being but 
a foot or two above the water. The land is black loam, of 
great fertility, principally in meadows and pasturage — fine 
fat cattle, with blankets over them, grazing on the yet green 
herbage. The canals are bordered with trees. The roads 
are elevated several feet, and serve as embankments. Some 
of the ditches, from lack of circulation, present the usual 
appearances of stagnant water, being covered with a green 
vegetable scum, by the side of which rises the Dutchman's 
cottage, where he sits in perfect contentment, smoking his 
pipe, deeming himself in Paradise. The gardens are very 
fine, and the colors of the flowers peculiarly rich and gaudy. 
No stones or rocks are to be seen. The government here is 
a constitutional monarchy. The king shares the legislative 
power with two chambers: the higher, consisting of sixty 
members, nominated by him; the lower, being deputies 
elected by the people. The law refuses all relief from the 
public funds to those who do not send their children to 
school. The result is, education is nearly universal. The 
religion is Protestant; there being about two and a half 
millions of them, and about half that number of Catholics. 
The army consists of about forty-eight thousand men. The 
Dutch own or have possession of some of the most important 
islands in the world — Java, Sumatra, Borneo, Celebes, etc., 
as well as parts of South America. The present king is 
William III., Prince of Orange. We had the honor, if 
honor it be, to see the queen. She came in the same train 
with us, there being royal cars expressly fitted and arranged 
for her. She appeared to be nothing more than a large, 
red-faced Dutch woman, very expensively dressed in pink 
silk. There was no enthusiasm or shouting, but much 
looking, of which she was the object. She bowed. Some 



HOLLAND. 289 

bowed in return; some took off their hats; others, as if 
petrified by the presence of royalty, remained motionless. 

The Hague is a cleaner and better built city than Eotterdam. 
It has about sixty -four thousand inhabitants. The English 
have here, as in most other cities on the Continent; service 
on Sunday in their own language. This I attended, as also 
the German Protestant service in a very large and imposing 
brick edifice ; part of which seemed very old, and the floor 
was paved with half-obliterated tombstones. The numerous 
and sweetly-chiming bells of the Continental Sunday ring 
out their music constantly on the air over this level country 
for many miles around. The collection of paintings in this 
city is almost umrivalled in excellence, having the chief 
works of the Dutch school, except those of Rubens at 
Antwerp. Paul Potter's Bull is celebrated all over the 
world. The painting represents a bull, as large as life, 
a cow, some sheep, lambs, the shepherd, and some other 
objects — all of which ISTature herself would scarcely scorn • 
so closely and deceptiously do they counterfeit her works. 
Paul Potter was probably the best painter of animals in the 
world. A divine painting evokes in ourselves a stronger 
memory than our wont. The surgeon dissecting a dead 
body is also very remarkable. The face of the dead is 
dreadfully and fearfully death-like ; that of one of the stu- 
dents expresses, in most amazing verisimilitude, his rapt 
attention. This painting, which is more than two hundred 
and forty years old, is by Rembrandt. The picture repre- 
senting Prometheus — the vulture devouring his continually 
growing liver — one of the finest illustrations of remorse 
possible, is also a glorious transcript of art. A painting by 
Rubens of one of his wives, is here also, and shows the 
power of that great creator of life on canvas. There are 
many other works here, in this the finest collection of paint- 
ings in the Dutch school in the world, which produce the 
gladdening effect of true art in the heart of the beholder. 
19 z 



290 HOLLAND. 

There is, in the same magnificent building, a grand collec- 
tion of Japanese and Chinese works of art; models of ships; 
statues of gods and idols, some covered with gold and gems, 
and perhaps thousands of years old, and which have received 
in those eastern countries the adoration of millions for cen- 
turies. There are here numerous vases, baskets of curious 
workmanship in ivory, wood, pearls, demonstrating an in- 
genuity in those nations little inferior to the vaunted excel- 
lence of the highest civilization. North of The Hague extends 
a very beautiful park of lime and elm trees, beginning with 
numerous avenues, which lose themselves in a deep forest, 
now gilded with the glory of autumn. There are numerous 
drives, palatial houses, inclosures with afetlered deer — the 
trees meeting and mingling overhead — forming vistas of 
arches, the effect of which is very fine. The Sunday of 
England and Scotland, however, is not here ; nor is there 
so much comfort in the hotels, nor so much quiet, home 
enjoyment ; but there is less dullness ; there are more variety, 
more genius, more sunlight, more military appearances; 
more soldiers. We cease to hear and read so much about 
the " Mutiny in India" ; nor is there evident that desperate 
attempt at recruiting, which did not scruple to take young 
and drunken boys, which we noticed in the Island Empire. 
The monarch's will is, however, much more sensibly felt 
here than there — Queen Victoria's absolute and controlling 
power, except by moral feelings and established preju- 
dices, being almost contemptible. Yet here appears to be 
as much freedom, more wealth — this being one of the 
wealthiest countries in the world. There is also more gen- 
eral education, and a better lower class than the lowest class 
in England or Ireland ; and also more general equality ; as 
much honesty, also, and fully as much goodness, generally, 
as in the country of our ancestors. In most of the Eu- 
ropean countries it is not the government alone that is 



HOLLAND. 291 

hated, the rulers and the dynasty are personally abomi- 
nated. 

But we have left the beautiful city of The Hague, and 
are now, Monday evening, November 1st, in that of Am- 
sterdam. The day was lovely; one of the clear, sunny, 
chilly days of autumn. We passed over the level, flat re- 
gions of Holland, with ditches and canals separating the 
fields ; passed old Dutch villages ; came through barren 
sand hills along the sea; then the railway ran on one of the 
dikes shutting out the North Sea; and, finally, saw the 
twenty-six windmills flying and flapping about Amsterdam, 
as if it were a winged town. It is an immense city — popu- 
lation two hundred and sixty thousand — of canals, bridges, 
narrow streets, with many-storied brick houses, with their 
carved ends next the street ; the cornices of each story pro- 
jecting over the other — the whole built as if to show that 
nothing is impossible to the Dutch. It is the most remark- 
able looking city we have yet seen in Europe. The houses 
are generally built of very small brick. Many of them 
lean forward; some affect the perpendicular; others prefer 
the oblique. This is in consequence of the unequal sub- 
sidence of the foundation, the city being built on piles. 
The bridges are only three hundred in number. Many of 
the houses are built in the water — their basements forming 
the sides of the canals. Most of the brick walls present a 
mottled appearance, being inlaid with white stones. Some 
of the canals are very wide, others narrow; they traverse 
and intersect all parts of the city; have many boats on 
them, in which whole families live all their lives. The city 
is very compactly built and very densely peopled. 

To-day we have spent in rambling about the city. We 
visited the Picture Gallery, and looked over all its contents 
till we were fatigued by their beauty. Certainly many of 
them are most remarkable creations. The portraits seem 
half alive. There is a beauty and variety in the living face 



292 HOLLAND. 

whicTi art cannot give to canvas : but there is also a beauty, 
and repose, and a study, in the productions of art which, the 
living face has not. The '^Evening School," the "Descent 
from the Cross," and many others, small as well as large ; 
also animals, birds, stags — all better painted than any- 
where else in the world — the Dutch school of the sixteenth 
century having had a specialty for painting animals. We 
also visited the palace. This is a grand building of stone, 
built on fourteen thousand piles, driven seventy feet into 
the ground, to give it a secure foundation. Here Joseph 
Bonaparte lived, who was made King of Holland by his 
brother. Many of the rooms are most splendid. We saw 
the king's bed-room, the audience-chamber; dining-rooms, 
tea-rooms, etc., many of them being hung with rich silk 
curtains. We also saw a most gorgeous chair ; the throne, 
in the reception-chamber, on which perplexed royalty had 
no doubt often sat, less happy, perhaps, than many a cot- 
tager on his stool. But the principal room is the ball-room, 
one hundred feet high, the highest in Europe, without pil- 
lars. This is truly a magnificent marble hall. In some of 
these rooms are paintings so life-like as to seem starting 
from the canvas. One of them represents Yan Speyk, the 
great Dutch admiral, in the act of applying the match to the 
powder magazine on board his vessel, to blow it up, himself 
and all his crew, to prevent falling into the hands of the 
enemy. His cool resolution, the extreme interest and alarm 
of the crew, are well delineated. Few nations have shown 
more patriotism and bravery than the Dutch. More than 
once they have opened the sluices and let in the North Sea, 
drowning their country and the labors of centuries to drive 
out their enemies. One of their generals, when besieged 
and summoned to surrender, replied he would eat one 
hand off, while he fought with the other, before he sur- 
rendered. We ascended to the top of the palace, and saw 
the grand prospect therefrom — the singular city, with its 



HOLLAND/ 293 

canals, islands, bridges; the great ship canal, connecting 
Amsterdam with Texel, fifty miles long ; The Zuyder Zee, 
or Bay of Amsterdam; the great windmills around the 
city ; in the distance, the village of Broeck, the inhabitants 
of which are unhappy martyrs to cleanliness ; and many 
other things are all in view. But the great chime of bells 
began. Amsterdam, like most of the cities on the Continent, 
has very fine bells. The palace has a chime of forty -two 
bells, which play a plaintive little air previous to striking 
the hour. They began while we were among them, and 
gave us an attack of music which which would have been 
better appreciated at a greater distance. More than fifty 
thousand of the inhabitants of Amsterdam are Jews, who 
live in one quarter of the city, in narrow, high houses, 
stenchy even at this season beyond all descriptive degrees. 
Old clothes, hung on racks outside the windows ; wretched 
looking people, dwelling in cellars, filthy and damp, where 
the human form meets you in all stages of degradation. 
Amidst these scenes, however, were five square synagogues, 
built with as little resemblance as possible to Christian 
churches. Much of the w^ealth of this wealthy city is in 
their hands. The atmosphere of Amsterdam is extremely 
damp ; and though necessity obliges the utmost attention to 
cleanliness, and the attempt is to a great extent successful, 
yet the marshy nature of the soil, the lowness of the situa- 
tion — being almost on a level with the sea — must render it, 
on the whole, an unpleasant city to reside in, except to those 
who are thoroughly devoted to money-making and com- 
merce. 

But we have left the lowlands, and are off to other regions. 
Tuesday, at twelve, we left Amsterdam, passing the usual 
sights— low meadow lands, ditches, windmills, cattle feed- 
ing with jackets on; then sand-hills, the reduced and nar- 
rowed Ehine, which divides into four streams as it ap- 
proaches the sea, and loses its romantic interest ; old villages 

z2 



294 BRUNSWICK. 

and towns on its banks ; then we entered a part of Prussia; 
where our baggage was subjected to a vigorous but court- 
eous examination. At twelve o'clock at night, fatigued with 
our long railway ridC; we stopped at the old town of Han- 
over^ remaining all night and part of next day. This is in 
the Grand Duchy of Hanover ; one of the electors of which, 
George L, became King of England, being descended from 
James I., through the female line, who intermarried with 
German princes. This is a peculiarly German place — re- 
mote, uniform, and dull. Most of the town consists of old 
German houses, framed of wood, between the timbers of 
which bricks are built. They have antique projecting bal- 
conies, each story projecting over the other. Numerous 
windows, carved gables next the streets, the appearance of 
which, as one looks down the streets is singular in the ex- 
treme — irregular, peculiar, quaint. There are some splen- 
did avenues of trees, extending from the city, and near the 
railway are some massive modern buildings, which belong 
to the age of railways and hotels. The population is about 
forty thousand. We left this on our way, and arrived in an 
hour and a half at the ancient city of Brunswick, about the 
size of Hanover, and resembling it in its picturesque archi- 
tecture. The country over which we passed being generally 
level and well adapted for cultivation, the soil, however, 
appearing to be worn out, and the country thinly peopled. 
As in other parts of Europe, the people live in villages, 
there being few or no houses iu the country. Brunswick 
contains the splendid and large stone palace of the Grand 
Duke. It has some fine monuments; we noticed one to 
Lessing, the German thinker; some pleasant avenues and 
grounds ; several massive, fortress - like, gray, old stone 
churches, neither Gothic, nor Norman, nor Italian in style, 
but German and grand ; and also a succession of old streets 
and houses similar to those we saw in Hanover, only older, 
more gable-ended and more antique-looking. 



BERLIN". 295 

Every thing seems here as it has been for ages, and 
human nature seems superannuated and gone to sleep, or 
frittered away in forms and solemn nothings. Even the 
locomotive has a sleepy, dull, safe, formal kind of move- 
ment. Every thing seems impressed with its own propriety, 
and the things that have been are those that shall be. The 
great stone churches, with their monuments and grave- 
stones outside, seem majestic in their time-worn appearance 
and their heavy style of building. In one of them sleeps 
Caroline of Brunswick, the unfortunate and ill-fated wife of 
George lY. of England. The currency changes in every 
little Grerman state, making it necessary for travelers to 
study the rules and rates of exchange. Prussian currency 
seems, however, in good repute. Austrian in bad. The 
hotels are grand and uncomfortable, the cafe and smoking 
rooms being the only places in which a German condescends 
to be comfortable. Finding but little of interest to the 
general traveler in this city, we leave by railway for Prus- 
sia. On our right rise, as we pass along the many-domed 
Hartz Mountains, the Spectral Brocken over them, and the 
slender young evening moon seems dancing on their sum- 
mits ; village after village gliding by ; windmills flapping ; 
peasants plowing with wheel plows — every thing old, change- 
less, and adjusted. We pass Magdeburgh, the strong fort- 
ress in part of which Baron Trenck was confined for being 
loved by, it is said, and in love with, the Princess of Prussia; 
then Potsdam, with its royal palace, and its lakes and gar- 
dens; and at length we reach Berlin, passing along the beau- 
tiful street Unter-den-Linden, (or under the Linden trees,) 
wide, spacious, and adorned with royal palaces, residences, 
universities, museums, statues, etc. Here every thing is Ger- 
man, excepting what is French. Our passports are demanded. 
How long we are going to stay in the kingdom ; where we 
are going; our status in our own country; what city we 
live in: and all this important information is, with our 



296 BEELIN. 

passports, sent to the police ; the latter to be additionally 
vised and subjected to the formal nothings which the mili- 
tary governments of these countries establish to enhance 
their own importance. ISTo sensible American would at- 
tempt to interfere with any of these regulations, or with the 
governments, or undertake to reform any of them. 

The hotel (the Victoria) is hung with paintings. Each 
one takes his meals in his own room. The universal French 
talle d'hote is provided for those who wish to eat thus; 
and is cheaper than an equal variety of dishes would be, if 
called for privately. It is indeed the great event, the crisis 
of the day. The hotels here are good. The weather is 
lovely, though cool. The debilitated sun rises but a little 
way at noon, as we are far to the north, being near latitude 
53°. The air of the country is far superior to that of Hol- 
land. The military bands play here every day, at noon, in 
the Lust-Garten, at change of guard. The music is perfect; 
superior to any military music, perhaps, in Europe, or else- 
where. There are crowds of tall grenadiers everywhere in 
the streets and at all public places, this being, perhaps, the 
most martially disposed nation in Europe ; a passionate 
admiration for '^the pomp and circumstance of glorious 
war" beiug infused into them by Frederick the Great, as 
into the French by ISTapoleou. Here are the Picture Gallery 
and Museum, a grand building near the Spree, the small 
stream on which the city lies, and the Unter-den-Linden. 
There are fine statues and rare works of art in marble, 
especially a vast vase, twenty-two feet in diameter, cut out 
of one solid block of fine granite, adorned iuternally and 
externally with sculptures, in front of the fine colonnade of 
the Museum. Greater, however, is the genius displayed 
within. Paintings by the first masters, arranged according 
to the different schools and ages — Flemish, Spanish, Italian, 
old German, Byzantine or middle age, many of them very 
good. 'Tis pleasant to roam at will through these galleries, 



BEELiisr. 297 

resplendent with the creations of geniuses who have, in an- 
gelic moments, given permanency to most lovely faces, and 
to ideas which speak from the cold canvas. The number 
of paintings exceeds one thousand. On some of them the 
eye might dwell for hours. The Italian and Spanish schools, 
however, stand clearly pre-eminent for passionate strength 
as well as softness of delineation ; the Flemish, or Dutch, 
for minute matter-of-fact detail ; and the Byzantine for holy, 
religious, seraphic elevation. There is something wonder- 
fully solemn in the Byzantine style. It is strange, weird, 
supernatural, and ghostly. No painting, however, which I 
have yet seen surpasses in thrilling, impressive execution, 
two or three of Kubens that I saw at Antwerp — the 
''Descent from the Cross," the ''Assumption of the Yirgin," 
and the " Crucifixion of St. Peter." There are faces in these 
that haunt you like ghosts, and will not depart, but become 
themselves a memory and a portion of our soul. The 
Sculpture Gallery here is also very interesting, as also the 
Egyptian Gallery. Berlin has very wide streets — Frederic 
the Great, who principally founded it, having inclosed a 
wide space with low walls, which still exist, and then com- 
manded it to be filled with houses. The street Unter-den- 
Linden is one of the finest, if not for a short distance the 
finest street in Europe. It has two avenues of lime trees, 
with footpaths and carriage-ways. Many of the buildings, 
hotels, etc., are of massive size, and stately architecture. 
Standing on the square, before the king's palace or chateau, 
one has a scene of great architectural beauty around him — 
the palace itself, of immense size, yet of simply grand style ; 
the colonnaded Picture Gallery, and the Museum ; the domes 
of various churches ; the groups of statues to distinguished 
men, among them an equestrian statue of Frederic the 
Great, reckoned the finest equestrian statue in the world ; 
also one to Prince Blucher; various allegorical representa- 
tions — some angels, some women, some children, some half- 



298 BEKLIN. 

growD girls ; tlien the various palaces on. tlie Unter-den- 
Linden ; the street itself, wide, long, and planted with 
trees; the Opera House, the Theatres, Guard House, Uni- 
versity — all these are Id view; while among them flows the 
Spree, with its pleasure gardens, in which military bands 
perform — all these minister delight to the eye and ear. We 
visited the Opera, the music at which is probably not sur- 
passed, outside of Berlin, in Europe. The piece was the 
"Daughter of the Eegiment," which was very effectively 
performed. But a still higher musical entertainment was 
had the next night in the " Symphonial Concerts," in which 
it is reckoned the best interpretation of the old masters is 
given. Some of the grand classic compositions of Beethoven 
and Weber were given. One of Beethoven's symphonies 
came like an appalling and tremendous oration of mighty 
meaning, which it strove to utter in a wail of vast sensa- 
tional power — a mingling of music, memory, and things no 
language could reach. It conjured up a succession of all things 
stratified over by Time. You feel, resolve, are soul-stirred, and 
fathomed more deeply than ever before, while it complained 
like the sigh of all humanity, and thundered like Olympian 
Jove. 1 strolled through some parts of the royal palace. 
It is an immense quadrangle, inclosing several large court- 
yards, in which an army might be reviewed. One entrance 
to it from the court-yard is up a steep winding road, or in- 
clined plane, up which a carriage might be driven. You 
come upon corridors, and long halls, and dark places, out 
of which little, diminutive forms, shrivelled up and small- 
looking, in comparison with the great rooms, come and glide 
by you. You are shown the rooms and clothes of Frederic 
the Great. This great king had at times but two ragged 
suits. The ghost of the White Lady inhabits some of the 
rooms, and wails when any of the royal family die. Servants, 
some of whom are antique specimens of woman kind, inhabit 
many of the apartments ; and their sudden apparition out 



BERLIN. 299 

of iinnoticed side doors, as you thread with your guide, the 
castellan, the long, dull galleries, might well make one 
think of the White Lady. Some of the rooms are furnished 
with extraordinary splendor. The building is of brick, 
plastered, and many of the columns are of carved stone; 
but the whole begins to wear the tattered garments of age. 
Of course there are soldiers and sentinels promenading, or 
standing in their sentry boxes, as is the case in all the royal 
palaces of Europe. Part of the royal family reside at pres- 
ent in this chateau. On Sunday I attended the Evangelical 
service in the cathedral. The music was of the usual 
German classic character, consisting of some of Mendels- 
sohn's psalm tunes. Part of the royal family were present. 
As they returned through the streets to the palace, in their 
somewhat plain carriage, there was great respect shown 
them, most of the men taking off their hats, which saluta- 
tion was always graciously returned, for majesty is always 
excellent at bowing. The king, who is now in his sixty- 
second year, is in very reduced health — of, it is thought, a 
diseased brain. Berlin, like many European cities, has its 
old and new cities. Here, in the old city, is the aged- 
looking Catholic church of St. Nicholas. Though the reli- 
gion of Prussia is a kind of Lutheran Protestantism, yet 
certain people will always be Catholics. Outside and in it 
is grand, ancient, and religious. It has ancient tombs, with 
numerous dark-side crypts, opening by iron doors, in which 
are the burial vaults. There are mouldering and mossy 
effigies, death-heads, and all the grim paraphernalia and 
tenantry of the charnel-house. The Catholics make much 
capital out of death. All that stones, and memory, and 
affection, and sculpture could do to perpetuate the dead, is 
done ; but in vain. They had their day of life ; they must 
be forgotten ; the rememberers themselves will be forgot- 
ten. The droning old organ goes on, and dull death and 
quick life here meet: the dead moulder in darkness and 



300 BERLIN. 

grim silence, the living work away and pray around tliem ; 
but botH shall meet in the dust again. In one of these 
crypts repose the remains of Baron Yon Puffendorf, an 
eminent jurist to the King of Prussia, and one of the stand- 
ard authors on the ''Law of Nature and Nations." Berlin 
now extends some distance outside of the old wall built by 
Frederic. At certain places are gates or towers. One of 
these, at the end of the Unter-den-LindeU; is called the 
Brandenburgh Grate, and is truly beautiful in appearance. 
It is surmounted by several elegant figures in bronze, repre- 
senting the chariot of the sun. This work of mechanism, 
like many others of the fine works of art, especially paintings, 
underwent a migration to Paris in the time of the first 
Napoleon, whose object was to collect there all the rare 
works of genius in the world. At his downfall they were 
generally restored to their former places. I have also been 
at Charlottenberg, three miles from Berlin, along a road 
passing through a park of rare beauty ; there being a royal 
palace there and some fine works of art. Berlin has about 
four hundred and twenty-six thousand inhabitants. Its 
manufactures consist of wool, cotton, silk, ribbons, porcelain 
and stoneware, bronze, gold and silver ware, artificial flow- 
ers, etc. There is a very marked difference between the 
German and the Dutch: the latter are minute, plodding 
industrious, contented, persevering. The Germans have 
larger souls and minds, more elevated views, more general, 
and capable of more intellectual works; but neither so 
moral nor so happy a people as the Dutch. The latter are 
contented with this world : the Germans with neither this 
world nor the other. The Dutch are among the most re- 
markable people in Europe. They live in perpetual warfare 
with the sea, which they have conquered and vassalized. They 
have not only "taken Holland," but made it. Americans 
and other nations are prompted forward by their advantages 
of position, climate, or soil : the Dutch are prompted by 



DRESDEN. 801 

tHeir disadvantaores. As Lord Lansdowne defined a diffi- 
culty to be a thing to be overcome, it well applies to them. 
They have established fertility in the midst of the sea^ and 
prospered where other people would have drowned. Yol- 
taire, after passing through their country, said of them, by 
a free translation, "Adieu ducks, drakes, dogs." Yoltaire 
was incapable of comprehending such a people. In defend- 
ing their country they have eclipsed all Spartan bravery. 
In painting they have surpassed all nations except the 
Italians. Kubens' " Descent from the Cross" is unsurpassed 
and unsurpassable and incomparable. This they owe, not 
to genius, but to mind; not to passion or feeling, but to 
industry. The Germans have more poetry in them, more 
versatility, more music, and more ponderous attention to 
monsters of trifles. Prussia has in all a population of 
more than seventeen millions, of which more than two mil- 
lions are the military. The Protestants are nearly eleven 
millions ; Catholics, more than six millions ; Jews, two 
hundred and thirty-four thousand. The regular army con- 
sists of about one hundred and sixty-one thousand men. 

But we are now in Dresden, in the kingdom of Saxony. 
It has about one hundred and eight thousand inhabitants, 
and is one of the finest cities in Europe. It is about 
one hundred and sixteen miles from Berlin, which we left 
yesterday, after spending three or four days there. The 
houses here do not seem very old, yet many of them have 
carvings and statues in stone, and quaint inscriptions. The 
houses are generally of stone, or brick plastered so as to 
resemble stone. Many of the streets are wide, regular, 
planted with avenues of lime trees, which are the same as 
linden trees, and lined with large, spacious houses, four or 
five stories high. It stands on both sides of the Elbe, now 
full of floating ice. This stream is scarcely as large as the 
Ohio. Two fine bridges, one of them five hundred and 
fifty-two yards long, with elegant iron railings, footpaths, 

2 a 



802 DRESDEN. 

etc. ; the other; sustaining tlie railway to Yienna, connect 
the two parts of the city. I have seen few or no beggars 
since I have been in Germany and Holland. There are 
very few in Scotland ; but most numerous in London and 
Ireland — England being a nation of lords, shopkeepers, and 
beggars. In Saxony there are no beggars whatever. But 
little either French or English is spoken here. We are in 
a large, splendid, comfortless Grerman hotel, where every 
one lives in his suite of apartments, and there are no 
tables dliote for reunions, every man's room being his 
castle here. The railway stations over all Europe are 
splendid, large, well-lighted and permanent erections, with 
restaurants for first, second and third-class passengers — 
varying in price, cleanliness, and quality : book-stalls and 
waiting-rooms for each class of passengers. The employees 
about the cars are in uniform, very numerous, under raili- 
tary discipline, and very courteous to first and second-class 
passengers. In these latter most people travel, none riding 
in the first class but fools and princes. The price and com- 
forts vary but little. Hotels are also firsts second and third 
class. Being naturally fond of good eating, and having 
also quite a partiality for sleeping in clean beds, we pa- 
tronize first-class hotels, and advise all others to the like 
course — the others being often merely unendurable — the 
stenches striking, the beds, already densely peopled by a 
class who do not flee away at your approach, and the eat- 
ables not at all enticing. The guide-books sometimes make 
mistakes in regard to their directions about the hotels, but 
in general the last editions of Murray and Bradshaw are 
quite correct. 

But I have to-day seen the great attraction of Dresden — 
its renowned Picture Gallery — the finest in Germany, and, 
except those of Italy, in the world. You have above two 
thousand paintings, which are in many grand and well- 
lighted halls. They are in splendid gilt frames, and are of 



DKESDEN. ' 303 

all ages, from over four hundred years down to the present 
century. It is an interview with dead but self-monumented 
genius to walk through these halls. The pictures are all 
imposing triumphs, created by Art and Grenius. You linger 
with them as over gladdening beauties. You walk through 
many halls, each with many paintings. You come to the 
best and most gorgeous room of all, and you find a single 
picture. But this one is the Madonna del Sisto of Eaphael, 
probably the grandest of all his Madonnas. It commands 
and entrances at once. It is impossible to look at it as a 
painting. The art is very great, but there is more than art 
there. You go away and look at others : this mingles with 
every thing. You return : it is alone, and glorious, and 
tranquillizing, and lovely. The Virgin is standing holding 
her child. The angels in the lower part of the picture are 
wonderful in their contemplative innocence and reverential 
intellect. The Virgin's eyes have all that the most lovely 
female's eyes could express, when suffused vvith soul and 
holy, sinless regard. Her attitude is simple and natural; 
her appearance that of human beauty, but of one who came 
on earth to bear a God. You would think unexhausted 
heaven breathed from those faces. There are many pictures 
by Correggio ; some by Rubens, Van Dyck, Jordsens, Cre- 
velli, Titian, Teniers, Holbein, Caranach, Matsys; some of 
which look like sculpture standing out from the canvas or 
wood on which they are painted. This collection, by the 
Saxon kings, who were formerly more powerful than at 
present, has been respected by all the conquerors in this 
part of Europe. Frederick the Great, though he battered 
down the churches, commanded that no cannon should be 
turned toward the Picture Gallery ; and after having takea 
the city, humbly requested of the queen, who was his pris- 
oner, that he might visit the gallery as a private man. 
Napoleon carried oft' none of them to Paris, through respect 
to the King of Saxony, who was his personal friend, and 



304 DEESDEIS". 

fought for him at LeipsiC; near this, though sixteen bat- 
talions of his troops went over and joined the enemy, by 
which means Napoleon lost the battle. Of the painters 
mentioned above., V^an Dyck was born 1599; died, 1641: 
Jordasns, born, 1594 ; died, 1678: Paul Potter, born, 1625 
died, 1654: Eembrandt Van Ehyn, born, 1606; died, 1674: 
Rubens, born, 1577; died, 1640: Teniers, born, 1610; 
died, 1694: Guido Eeni, born, 1574; died, 1643: Murillo, 
born, 1618; died, 1682: Holbein, born, 1498; died, 1554: 
Raphael, born, 1483; died, 1520: Matsys, born, 1460; 
died, 1530: Titian, born, 1477; died, 1576. The theatre; 
the royal palace ; the singular looking church, with its 
numerous sculptured statues on it and in it, its great organ 
of near six thousand tubes, which melodizes an ocean of 
air; the fine bridge over the Elbe, with its crowds of 
passers and its police; Briihl Terrace, with its prome- 
nades ; trees, cafes, and the fine view along the Elbe ; fine 
churches, all of cut stone, and without any wood whatever — 
are all near each other, and make a striking coup d\ml of 
stately splendor. On Brllhl Terrace are given very fine 
concerts, which we attended, and heard some rich old music 
on the violin, with piano accompaniment. Almost all these 
European cities are curiosities, and have accumulated in the 
lapse of ages many things historically very remarkable. 
Time, even in his ordinary course, casts carelessly on the 
shore of being many things which grow interesting merely 
by reason of their age. To-day we hired a commissionaire 
with whom to " do Dresden." We first visited the Catholic 
church. This, in its exterior, is surrounded by two rows 
of statues ; one row on the first story, the second around the 
highest part of the building. It is of stone, as are a major- 
ity of the houses in Dresden. Within, the view is grand : 
there are fine paintings, some on canvas, others in relief 
The royal palace is near it, being connected by a bridge 
thrown over a street; by which means the royal family can 



THE GREEN VAULTS. 305 

pass to their pews without being seen. Exteriorly the palace 
is only a large, common-looking stone building, with nu- 
merous windows, but no architectural pretensions. The 
royal family are Catholics, notwithstanding their subjects 
are Protestants. They were formerly Protestants, and were 
the earliest and firmest friends of Luther and the Reforma- 
tion ; but one of the kings renounced Protestantism, in the 
vain hope of being elected King of Poland. Under the 
royal palace are the celebrated Green Vaults, into which we 
now entered. The fee is one dollar and a half, admitting 
from one to six persons. This secures the attendance of a 
gentlemanly guide. These chambers are numerous, and con- 
tain collections of works of art — paintings, inlaid enamel, 
and mosaic work of all kinds ; most ingenious and skillful 
specimens of work in ivory and marble; relics of old kings; 
precious stones of all kinds, and of immense value — the 
accumulations of ages, and the productions of all climes — 
the whole valued at many millions of dollars, and not sur- 
passed in Europe. Some of the rooms almost blaze with 
diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and curiously wrought gold and 
silver plates, baptismal fonts, and marriage presents of kings 
and queens. Carved works in stone, marble, ivory, and 
especially well done. Some contain many hundred figures, 
cut out of a single stone. Curiosity becomes satiated, and 
wonder ceases, overcome, when one is looking at these 
things. Richly jewelled swords of state are here exposed ; 
curious clocks, in all sorts of devices : in short, it is a vast 
depository of the treasures of the mine and the works of the 
hand — all that it could do in bronze, in pearls, in ivory, in 
stone. The mosaic and inlaid tables are extraordinary. A 
tableau representing the gorgeous court, palace, and throne 
of Aurungzebe, King of Delhi, figures of bronze, gold and 
gems, is especially admirable. It is resplendent with gems, 
and all the attitudes of the figures are most life-like. The 
artists were generally Germans and Flemish. The cave in 
20 2 a2 



306 THE ANCIENT ARMOR. 

whicli Aladdin, according to Eastern story, met the Genius, 
could scarcely be more splendid than these vaults. From 
this we went into the curious and ancient armory, where a 
similar fee is paid. The armory collections, which are in 
many rooms, contain the identical suits of armor worn by 
ancient heroes. There are statues mounted on mail-clad 
horses; feudal heroes, on their gallant steeds, in deadly 
combat, w^ith fixed lances, and vizers down, in all the armor 
and chivalry of six hundred years ago. There is also a com- 
plete Turkish tent; there is the armor of the great John 
Sobieski, King of Poland, and defender of Christendom 
against the Turks, whom he conquered at the siege of 
Vienna ; there are many war trophies taken from the Turks ; 
there are also arms of various periods; guns and cannons 
in their rudest formation; there is a Colt's revolver, two 
hundred years old — an invention in all respects similar to 
Mr. Colt's, except in the rotation of the barrel being effected 
by hand instead of a spring, and which, the conductor 
informed us, very much suprised Mr. Colt himself, when 
he visited the Museum some years ago. There are some 
relics of Napoleon I. — his boots, worn at the battle of Dres- 
den, and his slippers; and there is also the cast of his skull, 
taken by Dr. Antommarchi, at St. Helena, just after his 
death. This is probably the best representation of the em- 
peror that now exists. The head and face are large ; the 
cheek bones are high and prominent ; the cheeks very much 
sunken, and there is an imperial, majestic resignation, indi- 
cated by the mouth and general appearance. All the organs 
of the head seem large ; those of memory and reflection ex- 
tremely so, and the general appearance of the head is that 
of great power to resolve and accomplish. This is the 
original. There is a copy in Paris, which I saw there; 
and beside it is a splendid bust of the emperor in marble, 
as he was in the days of his greatness ; and nothing could 
be more pitiable than the contrast. The difference is 



NAPOLEON— VON WEBER. 807 

striking; and, allowing considerable for flattery on tlie part 
of the sculptor who took the bust, one cannot but see that 
the imprisonment at St. Helena lessened greatly the size of 
the head, and benumbed and paralyzed all his faculties ; so 
that it was true, as he said, " Once I was Napoleon : now I 
am no longer any thing." There could have been no greater 
punishment on earth than to condemn a brain that had 
known such activity to such nonentity. When the alliance 
with England ceases to be useful to cement his throne; 
when the ennuied French army demands action ; when the 
emperor wants an Austerlitz in his reign ; when the old 
Bonaparte associations begin to be worn out ; the present 
French emperor will refresh them all by a real Napoleonic war 
on England, in which their conduct at St. Helena will come 
up for vengeance. He that is so miserly hoarding up associa- 
tions of his uncle, does not forget St. Helena and Waterloo. 
The military music here is truly magnificent. It dis- 
courses at each change of the guard, at noon, under the 
queen's windows. In a music hall near this we were shown 
many different kinds of automaton musical instruments, 
which go because wound up. They are remarkably inge- 
nious; play well: but, after all, the best music is that which 
has a human head or hand directly producing it. From 
this we strolled along Frederick street to the Catholic 
Cemetery, where, among humble graves, marked with 
crosses, and around which are high walls, shutting out the 
world, and inclosing a quiet, calm, tranquil spot, we read 
on a slab the single Avords, " Carl Maria Von Weber," the 
great deep-souled and plaintive German composer, second to 
none, lies buried. He was a native of this city, but died in 
London, whence his remains were removed by his son. 
Artificial wreaths of flowers — immortelles — lay on his grave- 
stone: he has been dead about thirty-six years — showing 
that some at least remember him besides those who take 
selfish pleasure in his immortal music. Here he sleeps; 



308 GENERAL MOREAU — DRESDEN. 

but "La Derniere Pensee" will wail his memory forever. 
From this we advance near two miles from the city, through 
farms of fine and well-cultivated soil, where, on an eminence 
commanding a most lovely view of the Yale of the Elbe, 
and the many-spired and domed city, we found three young 
oak trees, one of which was planted by the Emperor 
Alexander II. of Russia ; another, by the King of Prussia ; 
and the third, by the Crown Prince ; and beside them is a 
large granite block, surmounted by a military cast-iron cap. 
This is General Moreau's monument ; and his legs, taken 
off by a cannon ball, fired in Dresden, two thousand yards 
off, are buried here. An inscription in Grerman reads, 
" The hero Moreau fell here by the side of Alexander." It 
was in 1813, when the reverses of Napoleon induced the 
hope in the monarchs of Europe that their oft-shaken and 
tottering thrones might yet be saved. The Emperor of 
Russia, the King of Prussia, and General Moreau were 
reconnoitering the French position in Dresden ; when Na- 
poleon, perceiving a group of horsemen, ordered a shot to 
be thrown among them. " Which of them shall I take, 
sire?" said the gunner. "The middle one: he is my great- 
est enemy." It was necessary to amputate the legs of 
Moreau, during which operation he calmly smoked a pipe. 
He died twelve hours afterward. Napoleon did not know 
the middle one was Moreau. In returning to the city we 
saw, in a garden, the place whence the shot was fired. The 
environs of Dresden are beautiful. Portions of the old walls 
remain ; and the pools and baths of Augustus the Strong, 
and some of the houses of his seventy-two concubines, exist. 
The army of Saxony consists of more than twenty-five 
thousand men, larger than that of the United States, though 
Saxony is not as large as the State of New York. These 
troops are simply to keep the king on his throne — these 
people being strongly inclined to a revolution. There 
appears to be here a better middling class than in England, 



DRESDEN. 309 

and this class are in favor of a republic. In the military, 
all over Europe, the governments possess a power to keep 
themselves up and the people down. The soldier can do 
nothinsf without the officer. The officers are nearlv all 
noblemen — consequently attached to royalty from interest, 
education, and feeling. But it is very evident the govern- 
ment is one of force and restraint ; that it requires an army 
to keep it up. Our government is just the reverse. It 
needs no defense. It stands supported by the consent of the 
governed. Here the government is antagonistic to the will 
of the people, and requires these strong armies to keep them 
secure from enemies without and subjects within. 

This evening we visited the Opera, and had the pleasure 
of hearing ^'Der Freyschutz," or '^The Huntsman," by Yon 
"Weber, in this his native town. It is a grand opera, and 
the music is far superior to the acting and to the words. It 
should be performed without any other exposition than 
itself Next day I revisited the Picture Gallery, and gazed 
long on Eaphael's sublime creation. I also visited what is 
called the Japanese Palace, where one sees more than three 
hundred thousand volumes, one of the most extensive libra- 
ries in Europe — the literature of each nation arranged in 
compartments : French, English, Eussian, all the German 
states, ancient Greece and Eome, and also American litera- 
ture. Conspicuous among the last I noticed a fine copy of 
the "Writings of Washington," and an embellished copy of 
his "Farewell Address." It is he who first gave to America 
its great name and reputation in Europe. He has the heart- 
felt respect of all Europe. He is the focus through which 
they view America. Yet such a man was such a novelty 
to them — successful without being selfishly ambitious, and 
who chose rather to found a government than a dynasty; 
who only accepted office on account of patriotism, and 
resigned the command of armies to become gladly a private 
citizen. Such a man comes not twice on the arena of time. 



310 PKAGUE. 

His greatness excites no jealousy, and commands without 
demanding the admiration of the world. He is dead long 
since ; but moral, and unpretending, and sublime virtue and 
patriotism have nothing of the tomb about them. There 
are here also many manuscripts of Martin Luther on the 
Bible ; ancient Bibles, when the art of printing was young ; 
and ancient missals, and things that would make a paradise 
for an antiquarian; undeciphered Mexican, Sanscrit and 
Arabic writings. In the visitor's books you write your 
name ; and in it you are shown the names of I^apoleon, 
(date 1807,) Schiller, Goethe, Henri Duke de Chambord, 
Koskiusco, Lord Nelson, his paramour Lady Hamilton; 
and others, written by their own hands. 

We left Dresden after several days sojourn, and proceeded 
in the direction of Prague, one hundred and sixteen miles 
distant. The railway lies mainly along the Yalley of the 
Elbe, whose banks rise into perpendicular cliffs and massive 
mountain rocks of great majesty; while in some places 
there are terraces, or steps, ascending the mountains, or small 
plantations, giving us memories of the Ehine. This is the 
Saxon Switzerland, and in fine weather must afford ex- 
tremely pleasant excursions. Some of the rocks vStand up 
like mighty Gothic columns- in a church. There are old, 
arched stone bridges connecting elevated peaks, while be- 
low are little white houses, or remote, old, and quiet Ger- 
man villages, in which the peasants reside who quarry out 
the stone from the mountains, which is conveyed in steamers 
to Dresden for building purposes. On many of these scenes 
the eye loves to linger. Beyond Dresden, toward Berlin^ 
the country over which we traveled consisted of an undu- 
lating plain, soil rather sandy, and frequently covered with 
young pine forests, presenting evidences of rather a sparse 
population. At length we arrived at the ancient capital of 
Bohemia, Prague, on the Moldau, where we spend a day or 
two. Entering Austria from Saxony, we begin to aptice 



PRAGUE. 311 

the old, peculiar stone crosses, at many places, proving our 
being in the domains of another religion, Austria being a 
Catholic power. At Badenach, on the frontiers, our pass- 
ports were demanded, and, being found regular, were re- 
turned on personal application, the train, delaying one hour. 
In Prague our baggage was searched; the ofiicers, however, 
were civil. Having gotten to our hotel — a very dirty one — 
"Zum Schwartzen Eoss," a printed paper was presented to us, 
in German, which we were obliged to fill up, stating our 
name, age, religion, profession, where going to, whence 
coming, whether alone, or attended by any one. These 
things being all duly attended to — and they are not much 
trouble after all, and would greatly facilitate inquiries 
should one meet with accident — the police rested quietly. 
In Prague, the summer and autumn, which had both been 
protracted into winter, at length gave way to the stormy 
season, and it rained and snowed furiously, as if to make 
amends. Despite the weather, I walked about the old 
and interesting city, so peculiarly and inveterately Bohe- 
mian and German. Prague is surrounded by a most rich 
and beautiful country. The hills are high and the soil very 
fertile. A very thick wall, outside of which is a deep, wide 
ditch, surrounds the town. The wall has on it roads and 
promenades, which are planted with avenues of trees. From 
the wall a splendid view may be had of the hills, with their 
garniture of castle, church, or monastery. At certain places 
are splendid arched gateways, or passages, to and from the 
city, which are guarded by soldiers. Many of the streets 
are wide, and furnished with fine buildings, except in the 
old town, where they are narrow, winding, antique and odd. 
The inhabitants of Prague are one hundred and thirty 
thousand, of whom twenty or thirty thousand are Jews. 
Here is the old Jews' town without streets— only narrow 
passes, between old lofty houses, and here is a strange 
mournful-looking old brick building of oriental style, 



812 PEAGUE. 

peaked-pointed, gabled, and irregular. You enter — it is- 
dull, dreamy, dreary, has high vaulted roof, strange seats ; 
old men, long-bearded and serious, earnest-looking, move 
about in the lamp-lit darkness ; and here is a large book in 
the Hebrew character, an old Testament without any new — 
this world without another. It is the place of an extinct 
religion, which was once glorious and imposing in Asiatic 
lands and old days — a religion which had God for its 
author and destroyer, yet to which its adherents cling with 
unperished ardor, though the glory has departed from 
Israel, and the Ark of God no longer rests among them. 
And here is the old Jews' Cemetery, full of plain monu- 
ments, strewn thick as leaves in Autumn, and as dreary. 
There is no hope here through Jesus Christ, no resurrec- 
tion of the just and unjust, none of the new world of liv- 
ing hope which Christianity has thrown around death. 
The Jews are obstinate infidels, but where are there more 
industrious, sober, virtuous people — more quiet, orderly, 
and law-abiding, though oppressed and down-trodden ? But 
I am on the great stone bridge across the wide Moldau, in 
the vale and heights around which the city is built. This 
bridge has numerous piles of statues on each sides, and at 
regular distances, representing historical and Catholic le- 
gends, the numerous figures occupying impressive attitudes. 
The chief group represents the life and death of St. John 
of ISfepomuk — the patron saint, or household god of this 
city. For each Catholic city, in Europe, has a little, deli- 
cate, chaste, fire-side saint or patron, pure, ideal, and le- 
gendary, to whom their heart affections turn, and who is 
always ready to assist them. Kow St. John of N"epomuk 
is very old. He was confessor to the beautiful Queen of 
Bohemia, and her lord and master suspecting her fidelity 
ordered the priest to disclose the secrets of the confessional, 
which he refusing, the king hurled him off the bridge into 
the river. St. John of Nepomuk was no more, and the 



PEAGUE. 813 

people of the town wondered what had become of the 
pious and benevolent father. But behold, in passing the 
river, there was always a bright lambent flame hovering 
on the wav}^ water, and on searching there they found his 
body ; and the late remorse of the king, the sorrow of the 
queen, and the regard of the people, have preserved his 
remains for centuries in the principal church, in a vast 
silver coffin. On the other side of the river is the grand 
palace of the great rebel chief Wallenstein — a hero of the 
Thirty Years' War, so well depicted by Schiller, whose work 
is so well translated by Coleridge. It has three tiers — 
twenty windows in each tier, and its gardens are kept in 
fine style. On the top of a high hill in that part of the 
city is a collection of magnificent buildings, called the 
Hradschin. There is the Imperial palace, that of the arch- 
bishop ; the Museum, with its paintings and Bohemian cu- 
riosities ; and here in the dull mysterious light of the even- 
ing we enter the Gothic cathedral, with its numerous inter- 
nal columns, old, gray and massive, and around each one 
of which are numerous statues, and the grand, thrilling 
music of the organ utters itself among the tombs and old 
columns. A mausoleum here contains the ashes of thirteen 
princes and princesses, and here is the silver coffin of St. 
John of Nepomuk, their household word god. St. John 
has many images — angels, figured ideas, &c., of the same 
metal, and of immense value. The church itself is truly 
a most magnificent architectural idea in stone. From the 
hill you see the sixty church spires of Prague, the vale of 
the river, the long wide stone bridge, the hilly and now 
snow-mantled country around, with many villas, churches, 
monasteries, castles, crowning them; the sixty clock and 
twenty -two other old towers of the city, presenting an as- 
pect peculiar, imposing, and regarded as the most beautiful 
of the German towns, and has the most antique and unique 
character. Few places have struck me as being so agree- 

2b 



314 ' VIENNA. 

able, and nowhere have I seen so much beauty in the 
common classes of the people, especially among the young 
girls who preside in the shops w^ith grace and unconscious 
dignity. Yon may see them ply their work at night to 
eke out their little living, totally unmindful how hard their 
sisters in other lands belabor the piano, battling out the 
''Battle of Prague" — a battle fought about one hundred 
years ago. There is certainly more enjoyment in many of 
these European cities than those of America. The English 
and ourselves are the most matter-of-fact business people 
on earth. In these countries, all that music, painting, sculp- 
ture, architecture, fine scenery, and works of taste, can do 
to develop the lighter, the agreeable, the most pleasant and 
social qualities of the heart, is done ; whereas we pass our 
lives in the mighty, the serious, the awful business of money- 
making — as if instead of letting life live, we were fully 
determined to have always more than enough. This indeed 
is our greatness — mere enjoyment is too little a thing for 
us. Here the people, having been born, take it for granted 
they will live somewhere, and having lived yesterday ex- 
pect to live to-morrow, and enjoy in the meantime their 
little more than those who have abundance. 

But we are off now for Vienna, distant two hundred and 
fifty miles. We pass through a country uneven, but well 
cultivated ; then through low lands which the peasants are 
plowing, having high hills in the distance ; then we come 
to mountains, some of which have ruins that look Eoman- 
like on their summits. We see vast column-like crags. 
We come to old Austrian, agricultural, changeless villa- 
ges ; we perforate the mountains in twelve tunnels — come to 
vast pine forests, find the old roadside crosses everywhere, 
representing the "Man of Sorrows." We glide along re- 
mote brawling brooks, some of which are bordered by long 
avenues of poplar — at times see a princely chateau or a 
large manufactory — finally, after about twelve hours, w^e 



VIENNA. 315 

pass tlie great glistening Danube. Our luggage, as usual, 
is examined, while we anathematize tlie cool Austrian offi- 
cials. We drive througli the princely streets to our hotel, 
where, after being very comfortably ensconced — the Vienna 
hotels are good, but dear — we find the police solicitous as 
at Prague to know the particulars respecting our age, reli- 
gion, profession, standing, &c. ; their un happiness on these 
points being relieved, we are allowed to consider ourselves 
in Vienna, the capital of Austria, and one of the largest and 
finest cities in Europe, having four hundred and seventy - 
three thousand inhabitants, sixty thousand of whom are 
Jews. Austria contains nearly forty million of inhabit- 
ants, near thirty states or departments. Of the population, 
according to their nationality, nearly eight million are 
German, nearly fifteen million of the Sclavonic race, Ko- 
mans eight million. About twenty-five million are Catho- 
lics, three million Greek Christians, the others Protestants, 
Jews. Of the latter there are nearly a million. The army 
consists of 425,873 infantry, chasseurs 32,534, cavalry 
70,376. 

In splendor and general appearance, Vienna far exceeds 
Berlin, which, except the Unter-den-Linden street, narrowly 
escapes being simply an antique, dull, German town, like 
Hanover or Brunswick. The royal palace in the city here, 
in general appearance, is not so fine as that at Berlin, 
though in position superior — having fine grounds and gar- 
dens near it, whereas that at Berlin has nothing of the kind. 
Here the houses are very high — appear new and clean — the 
streets are well paved, though narrow — the squares are 
small, but have some fine statues; there is a fine group of 
allegoric statues on the Volksgarten in commemoration 
of the great plague; there is one to John Sobieski, the 
savior of Vienna and Christendom in 1683, which the Aus- 
trians ungratefully forgetting, assented to the division and 
annihilation of his kingdom. The people here are very 



816 VIENNA. 

courteous to strangers, after the police are satisfied about 
the objects of one's sojourn and means of subsistence. 
There are no tables d^hote here; one dines (^ /a car^e. The 
moneys are silver coins, called florins, worth, about forty-six 
cents, and copper coins called kreutzers, worth seven or 
eight mills. French gold coins pass readily. The walls 
around Vienna are an immense work, consisting of an outer 
and inner wall, fifty or sixty feet apart, filled between with 
earth and rocks, and planted above with trees, furnishing an 
elevated and beautiful promenade. Outside the walls is a 
moat large enough to contain a river, which, in case of siege 
or attack, could be filled with the Danube. The exterior 
curve of the moat has also a high wall, and in the sunken 
place are now fine gardens, promenades, avenues of trees, 
military houses, defences, etc. Through and under the walls 
are, in many places, strongly guarded gates and drawbridges. 
Much of the city lies outside the walls ; the part inside is very 
compactly built„ The cathedral here is a Gothic building, 
and is one of the largest churches in the world. Outside it 
presents the darkened appearance of extreme and stately 
age — of innumerable little turrets and castles on the sides 
and ends of the columns and cornices — of tombs around it, 
and sculpture carved work — images, saints — all expressive, 
almost animated, yet tattered and wasted away by slow, 
consuming, and inevitable age. The spire is a grand sight; 
it wedges the sky ; it is four hundred and twenty-eight feet 
high, decreasing gradually to a cross. It is called the 
Cathedral of St. Stephen, and was founded about the year 
1000. The great bell was cast from the metal of one hun- 
dred and seventy cannon taken from the Turks. Inside 
yon will be presented with a grand spectacle. Immense 
and lofty Gothic columns, around which are clusters of 
saints and martyrs in marble — long, narrow, high windows 
— dim, sepulchral pictured glass — paintings of rare merit — 
thirty-eight altars of marble — silent worshipers bowing in the 



VIENNA. 817 

chapels — the great tomb of the Prince Eugene — the Tyr- 
olean marble monument to the Emperor Frederick III.: 
also, the congregations listening to discourses in some 
remote chapels — the mystic ceremony of the Mass going 
on — the wax candles — the music of the grand organ, like 
the solemn utterings of the spirit of the place — and all the 
solemnities of the great Catholic superstition, unexhausted 
and still interesting after the lapse of hundreds of years. 
Under the church are thirty great caves filled with bodies — 
some of them kings. That the worshipers of the Catholic 
religion derive some sort of comfort and spiritual happiness 
from its processes, there can be no doubt. You will see 
them before day, or in the early dim light of the morning, 
stop on their way to market, with baskets on their arms, in 
solemn and sincere prayer, or kissing a shrine or image. 
Their churches are open at all times, and at all hours per- 
sons may be seen within, in act of devotion ; while Protest- 
ant churches are open perhaps three hours per week, and 
then thinly attended. Our system is better, but our practice 
is worse. We have the enlightenment of the serpent, but 
lack the zeal of ignorance. We have more of government, 
and they have more of God. 

But here is the church of the Capuchin monks, and into 
the vaults of the contiguous convent we descend, and here 
are the bronze and silver tombs of the House of Austria for 
two hundred and thirty years past. A monk with white 
stole and candle conducts us, and points out and names the 
mouldering occupants who sleep the sleep of death in the 
splendor of carving, gilding and statuary. Here is the 
great monumental coffin of the Empress Maria Theresa, 
worth many millions ; and here are also plainer tombs. 
Maria Louisa, wife of the first Napoleon, and by her side 
sleeps their son, the Duke of Keichstadt, She is described 
as wife of Napoleon then Emperor. The Duke of Reich- 
stadt has a fulsome epitaph in which his title is given, as 

2b2 



318 VIENNA. 

born king of Eome, and lie is described as possessing every 
virtue of mind, speech, or person; and the cause of his 
death is stated to be phthisic. The inscriptions are in 
Latin. That to the Duke begins with ''To the eternal 
memory of," etc. The Austrian guide who accompanied us 
stated that he died of the raiserere — that it was currently 
reported at the time that Fanny Ellsler was the grave of the 
Duke of Reichstadt, and that he was always in love with 
some danseuse. His situation waS; doubtless, peculiarly 
awkward — connected in blood with the most powerful fam- 
ilies, yet descended from the humiliater of them ; feared as 
the inheritor of the Napoleonic ideas, and as the centre 
around which French agitators might concentrate, it is 
probable he was wished out of the way ; and whatever the 
ties of consanguinity might dictate, the political ideas which 
were the cause of his existence, and of the marriage of his 
mother to Napoleon, may have also accelerated his death, or 
permitted such indulgence as would render him unfeared. 
It is probable the indulgence of youthful passion was seen 
and noticed with pleasure, and that no warning voice bade 
him beware. Yet there sleeps, entirely humbled into the 
dust, the proud fabric of Napoleon's ambition. Another, 
and a descendant of the divorced one, inhabits the scenes 
reared for this dead one. The eventual does justice to all. 
The Austrians will be humbled yet, and will atone for the 
violation of the ties of blood. The French and Austrians 
must inevitably come into collision in Italy. The French 
Emperor wants a decent pretext to fight the Austrians. We 
also visited the splendid tomb of the Princess Christina, an 
almost speaking collection of marble statues. It is the 
chief work of modern art — being by Canova. We saw also 
the silver urns in which are enshrined the hearts of mem- 
bers of the royal family. There is another work of Canova 
near here, in a building erected for the purpose of contain- 
ing it, which some reckon as his best. It is Hercules kill- 



VIENNA. 819 

ing the CeDtaiir. You gaze at it with astonishment ; it is 
most life-like in its verisimilitude. Sculpture is a glorious 
art in such hands as Canova. 

Vienna is one of the most interesting cities on the Conti- 
nent. It is some fourteen hundred years old, having been 
founded on a Eoman camp, on the Danube. After the 
death of Attila in 453, the Goths established themselves 
here. The houses are all numbered regularly throughout 
the city, no attention being given in numbering to the 
various streets. To-day I saw the emperor driving through 
the streets in his magnificent coach, drawn by six horses, 
preceded by military flourishes, and generally bowed to. 
He is but twenty-seven years old ; is married ; has a daugh- 
ter; no son. His title is Emperor of Austria, King of Bo- 
hemia and Hungary, King of Lombardy and Yenice, Dal- 
matia, and several other places. He succeeded his uncle in 
1848, the latter having abdicated, and the father of the 
present emperor having renounced his right as next heir in 
his favor. The name of the present emperor is Francis 
Joseph. To-day we visited Schoenbrun, the winter resi- 
dence of the emperor, about three miles from Yienna. The 
appearance of this palace is very fine : the style is simple 
and grand. Around the palace are beautiful grounds — 
trees cut so as to resemble walls; there are lakes, fountains 
statues; long avenues, arched with trees; and on a hill 
about a mile through the grounds rises a beautiful colon- 
naded building, called the Gloriette, surrounded with elegant 
walks, and adorned with cascades. From this point a most 
splendid view may be obtained of Yienna — the high moun- 
tains at a distance, now covered with snow, and the Yale of 
the Danube : the memory of this view is itself a glory. It 
embraces the ground of the battle of Wagram. Not far 
from here is the emperor's park, embracing three thousand 
wild boars. The Duke of Keichstadt lived in this palace, 
and died here, July 22d, 1832. The villages around are all 



820 VIENNA. 

places of resort. In the Cemetery of Waliring repose the 
remains of Beethoven, though the exact place is said to be 
unknown. Eeturning to the city, I visited the Belvidere, a 
vast palace, erected by the Prince Eugene, now used as a 
picture gallery. The collection is very extensive, embracing 
many works of the old masters : many by Eubens and 
Titian. In the upper story are the finest modern paintings 
I have ever seen, by Dutch and Swiss masters. Those 
of the old Dutch masters are some of them very old — 
some on wood ; many extremely valuable. There are three 
thousand in all. It is astonishing what a number of pic- 
torial scenes are furnished by the Bible — more than from all 
other books together. Most of the pictures, and all the 
finest, are sacred subjects — various incidents, real and imag. 
inary, in the life of the Saviour ; then scenes, or assumed 
scenes, in the life of the Virgin Mary ; then the distresses 
and sorrows of the Magdalene. There are many rooms — 
guards in uniform in each room — who see that no injury is 
done by the numerous visitors ; some of whom walk through 
these splendid avenues of rich old paintings at the rate of 
three miles an hour, pronouncing judgment, probably, and 
making up their opinions as to their merit at a glance of a 
second ; from which they must infer their merit is but 
secondary. The guards will answer any questions relative 
to the paintings, on which occasions some of them expect 
a fee; though in general admittance is free to places of pub- 
lic curiosity in Vienna on certain days. We also visited 
the royal riding school, which is one of the finest buildings 
in Europe of that kind. We saw some very fine horses, 
which had been taught all kinds of artificial gaits and 
graceful movements. The riding, however, did not seem 
better than that of many a backwoodsman, who would 
never dream that riding could be made a branch of learned 
education. We visited also the Imperial Collection of 
Medals and Antiquities, which contains many things of great 



VIENNA. 821 

interest, extending back to the middle and Roman ages, the 
enumeration of them merely would fill volumes. Yolumes 
have indeed been written about a single object here. For when 
nothing is known absolutely about any thing, there is the 
finest opening possible for saying a great deal. Antiqua- 
rians must be left to their own unsatisfactory puzzlings. 
The Glacis is a very interesting place to visit. It is the 
large open space between the walls of the city and the sub- 
urbs. It is planted with trees, has gardens; there are 
military reviews, music, and vast crowds hurrying to and 
fro ; soldiers, of whom there are twenty thousand in Yienna, 
all of whom seem very courteous. Etiquette is rather a 
ponderous thing in Vienna. Every body takes oft' his hat 
to every body. The banker transacts no business with you 
as long as you keep your hat on. Should you pass out of 
your hotel every five minutes, the landlord, clerks, porters, 
commissionaires, all take off their hats each time. 

I have seen Goethe's Faust performed here. This great 
German drama was most effectively rendered. The scenic 
machinery, especially where the devil appears and dis- 
appears, was quite remarkable. Nothing of the kind that I 
have ever seen could be compared to the vast interest and 
attention on the part of the audience. The great German 
seemed to be uttering their own ideas, which all had felt 
but none could utter. Goethe is a powerful delineator of 
the human heart. His works " raise the devil" in the heart, 
but they cannot lay him again. The reflections of Faust, 
as delivered, were fearful. 

Among the curiosities of Vienna is always shown the 
Stock in Eisen. It consists of the trunk of a tree, near a 
house in the centre of the city, which dates from the time 
that the forests extended to this point. It is everywhere 
full of nails. Every locksmith's apprentice, in taking the 
tour of Germany, (they travel for seven years,) in passing 
through Vienna, drives a nail, into it, as a mark of their 
21 



822 TRIESTE. 

sojourn, though it is all covered with nails ; and, it is said, 
it requires the assistance of the devil to drive one into it 
now. We have been in Vienna some days, and to-morrow 
we leave it. It is a lovely moonlit night. I have walked 
about the great St. Stephen's Platz, with the great church 
in the centre, its spire ascending into the sky — a most im- 
pressive sight — the very variously covered tiled roof gleam- 
ing in the moonlight, like a lake of silver. No sight is 
more impressive than a large and splendid city gradually 
creeping into the stillness of night — so much of mind is 
hushing up, and so much of life going into temporary dark- 
ness. The greatest wonder in all the curious creation is, 
that the author God of it is not more apparent. We see 
results, bat the mighty Cause is unseen. 

But I slept last night (this is Friday, Dec. 4:th,) on the 
shores of the Adriatic Sea, beyond which rise the shores of 
the most delightful of all lands on earth — Italy, the beau- 
tiful, the historical, the mournful — where we expect to spend 
the winter. We have completed our course of near fifteen 
hundred miles through the centre of Europe, and are now 
at Trieste, the most commercial town of the Austrian do- 
minions. Here are the masts of numerous ships of all 
climes — here Italian activity and versatility have taken the 
place of German ponderosity and politeness, and a softer and 
more musical language, written in characters familiar to our 
eye, has taken the place of the ugly, black, Gothic letters 
and printing we have had since leaving Holland — the Dutch 
being always written in Roman letters in Holland. All 
things indicate another race and language — the names of the 
streets, the public notices, the vernacular at the hotels, the 
common language, the brighter air, speak of our approach 
to Italy — the fallen, beautiful Eve of all countries. We 
left Vienna yesterday at six-and-a-half o'clock, in the ex- 
press train for Trieste, three hundred and eighty miles 
south-west of Vienna, passing through parts of Styria, 



AUSTRIA. 323 

Hungary, and Illjria, dominions of the Austrian Empire. 
It .is a splendid railway, and has only been finished within 
a few weeks past. As usual, in Europe, there are first, sec- 
ond, third, and fourth-class cars, at various prices and con- 
veniences ; the first class contain only six persons, and are 
cushioned with pink velvet ; the second-class contain eight 
persons, and are better than the English first-class. The 
railway over which we passed is the most remarkable one 
in the world. The difficulties overcome far exceed those on 
the Baltimore and Ohio Eailvvay. It ascends three thousand 
feet or more in thirty miles, and passes through at least 
twenty tunnels. The viaducts and bridges are, many of 
them, very long, and are of the most solid construction. 
We began to ascend soon after leaving Vienna — leaving a 
mild climate and getting into a region of snows aad cold 
and occasionally violent winds — the locomotive climbing up 
an elevation at the rate of fifteen miles an hour — then 
passed through Soemmering tunnel, nearly a mile long, on 
the summit of the Styrian Alps — then descended into 
pleasant vales along a river by the side of which rise snow- 
clad mountains, seven thousand feet high, presenting land- 
scapes of remarkable and wordless loveliness. At Gratz, 
situated in a magnificent plain of very rich land, we saw, as 
well as at some other places, ancient ruins, some of them 
very extensive, consisting of thick, dilapidated stone walls, 
works of Koman and feudal powers, creating a strong desire 
to stop and ''do them." They are generally built on 
the almost inaccessible summit of a conical or sugar-loaf 
mountain — a village occupying the base of the mountain 
and commanded by the castle — and are generally near some 
large tract of arable land. The scenery in Soemmering 
Pass is of the most grand character. The railway lacerates 
the perpendicular sides of hard, rugged, limestone moun- 
tains, leaps bridges, with numerous arches, over awful chasms 
— we perforate hills in darkness, or lit by the glimmering 



324 CAVE AT ADELSBUKGH. 

lamps in the cars, burning most of the route — pass old, small 
Austrian villages, which the railway seems to be awaking 
from their slumber of one thousand years — we glide by 
miles of tranquil streams with their mills — poplar avenues 
— pleasant, humble cottages — come to pine-clad hills, rising 
in rich verdure to a great height — we follow circuitous 
streams, sometimes reversing our course in a short distance. 
The moon then rose over the bare and rocky mountains, 
silvering their tremulous, distant outline, and glinting over 
the lonely streams with delicate loveliness. Arriving at the 
old Hungarian town of Adelsburgh, fifty-five miles from 
Trieste, I, with an English gentleman, stopped for a day to 
explore the celebrated grotto near it. About nine at night 
we arrived at the single hotel, half a mile from the railway 
station. There were human beings at the hotel, but not a 
word of French or English could they speak. The next 
morning we were conducted to the Austrian Commandant, 
whose business it was, on our payment of a considerable 
fee, to appoint us guides, three in number, to grant us ad- 
mission, and give us the ''little illumination." He could 
speak French. The charge was six florins and five kreut- 
zers, admitting four persons, two paying the same. We 
proceeded to the grotto, nearly a mile from the hotel, along- 
side of a considerable stream of water, which appeared to 
have no outlet till you came near a large limestone moun- 
tain, where you find the river flows into a vast, natural ex- 
cavation or cave, and is apparently lost. It reappears, it is 
said, at a distance of thirty miles, passing under the moun- 
tain. On a lofty, conical hill, immediately in front of the 
cave, is an antique ruin, consisting of a few remaining walls, 
of a feudal stronghold. It is almost as picturesque as 
Drachenfels on the Ehine. It overlooks a fertile plain, con- 
taining several small, old villages, bounded by bare, rugged, 
limestone rocks. We now prepared to enter the cave by 
an iron door, a short distance to the right of the river. The 



ADELSBQRGH. 325 

guide unlocks the door, prepares his torches; two other 
guides precede us to light candles at various places. We 
then enter the great darkness — hear the noise of the rush- 
ing river battling in the dark with giant rocks — we pass 
natural bridges — see numerous lights, whose beams dance 
on the dark waters — we descend many steps — we ascend, 
stoop, squeeze through — for the cavern is very low in some 
places, in others it rises to a height of one hundred and 
twenty feet. We then entered what is called the kingdom 
of Pluto ; we came upon most beautiful forms and forests 
of stalactites and stalagmites, made by the dropping of the 
water during ages — growing up and growing down also — 
some hanging from the roof, others rising from the floor. 
They form most singular figures, some looking like time- 
mutilated statues, others forming white limestone figures of 
various animals, columns, crucifixes, arches, churches, dif- 
ferent saints, almost every form having a name on account 
of some fancied resemblance or distinction. In the beauty 
of its stalactites this cave is unsurpassed in the world. The 
dripping limestone water has here been growing into fan- 
tastic forms for ages. One large apartment is called the 
Cathedral, another the Belvidere, which has a fine marble 
statue, com^memorating a visit the Austrian Emperor made 
here in 1816. Another apartment is called the ball-room; 
this is of large size, has a level, solid floor, with orchestra 
for the musicians, and on certain occasions great festivals 
are held here, which thousands attend. Altogether, it must 
be one of the grandest sights in the world when splendidly 
illuminated. Another large apartment, about three miles 
from the entrance, which was the limit of our explorations, 
is called Mount Calvary. Other rooms are called the " Halls 
of Drapery " — the thin, transparent, limestone rock having 
grown in the lapse of ages into most exact resemblance to 
thin folds of curtains or drapery, hanging down and 
variously colored. It is reckoned no cave in the world can 

2c 



326 TEIESTE. 

produce so vast and beautiful a collection of stalactites. On 
grand festal occasions, more than six thousand candles are 
lit throughout the cave, and when a fine band of music is 
performing, the effect of such a scene — the reflections from 
the glistening columns — must all be very fine. Almost all 
the creations of Art in the outside world seem, to have their 
prototypes here in the works of blind ISTature in the dark. 
There are spires of churches, watch-towers, tombs, Egyptian 
mummieS; columns, petrified forests, pulpits, etc. The road 
through the grotto is very good, and is supported by 
balustrades at various points where necessary. We re- 
turned partly by a different route, came within hearing of 
the rushing dark waters, and finally to the pleasant sun- 
light, having been three hours in the cave. There was a 
fair at Adelsburgh that day, and the country people crowded 
the streets in all the most curious and outre costumes. 
Stalls and booths for the sale of all kinds of little wares, 
were everywhere along the streets. Human creatures, in 
all degrees of ugliness, were seen, and we saw also several 
specimens, among the young girls, of the dark and flashing 
beauty of Italian blood. It was a study of extreme in- 
terest, to pass through this motley crowd. 

We reached Trieste late at night. It has a beautiful po- 
sition, just on the shores of the Adriatic, and is surrounded 
by high hills, on which a part of the town is built. It 
has more than eighty-three thousand inhabitants, is a free 
port, and has in its docks and canals vessels from all parts 
of the world. We have come from the North Sea to the 
Adriatic. The weather here is at present mild and agreea- 
ble. There are many fine houses here, built of the hard 
limestone of the adjoining hills. Some of the old streets 
are very narrow. I visited the Greek church to-day — there 
being many wealthy Greeks here, who wear a peculiar cos- 
tume. It is a gorgeously furnished building — gilt and 
golden with some fine silver and gilt statuary. Two very 



TEIESTE. 827 

fine, large, modern paintings are here. It is without the 
altar, however, the confessionals, the images, and many 
other things pertaining to its more modern and popular 
rival, the Roman Catholic religion ; nor is it so well attended 
nor its service so impressive. The crosses are all Greek 
ones — the arms of equal length — instead of Latin ones. 
The Catholic church is a schism from the Greek church, and 
is better adapted to express the religious wants, and vent the 
feelings of the lower class of people. The Greeks are 
Iconoclasts. Some of the monuments around the fountains 
in Trieste are very well worth looking at. The jewelers' 
shops, dealers in coral, and glass ornaments, watches, etc., 
are very fine. The great attraction is the Cathedral, a sin- 
gular-looking building in the Byzantine style, built on the 
ruins of, and of a part of the Temple of Jupiter — some of 
the Roman pillars and columns of which — two thousand 
years old — are incorporated into the building, and banded 
with iron to prevent their falling to pieces from extreme 
age. There are four rows of columns inside. This church 
is said to be fifteen hundred years old. One of the kings 
of Spain, Charles Y., is buried here, and also Winkelman, 
the celebrated German writer on antiquities. ISTone of the 
paintings are very good, but some are very old ; there are 
frescoes and mosaics in the Byzantine style. From the 
terrace before the church the view is of rare splendor — the 
blue Adriatic with its ships, ten thousand of which enter 
and depart the port of Trieste per annum — the red tile- 
roofed town below you — the high hills around, studded with 
villas — the residences of merchants, grown rich by the com- 
merce of Trieste, which has prospered at the expense of 
Venice, and all other ports on the Adriatic, and exceeds in 
commerce any other city in Germany, except Hamburgh. 
But to-morrow we expect to depart for Venice, beautiful 
Venice, the discrowned Queen of the Adriatic. It is sixty 
miles across, which the steamer usually performs iu six 



S28 VENICE. 

hours. Adieu, then, to this part of Europe. We enter on 
older and more celebrated scenes, whose day is past, yet 
which catch a radiance from their old-like sunset hills when 
the orb of day is gone. 

But Venice, " beautiful Yenice, city of song, city of old.*' 
"We crossed the Adriatic Sea to-day, Dec. 5th, and are now 
in Yenice, the city '' standing out of the water and in the 
w^ater." I as usual exercised my special talent for sea sick- 
ness, though the sea was smooth, or only heaved calmly, 
like the heart of a sleeping infant. "We crossed in about 
six hours in one of the Austrian Lloyd steamers. We had 
fine views on our right, at the extremity of the sea, of the 
rugged, mighty, massive Tyrolean mountains, rising majes- 
tically, swathed in everlasting snow, above which were strata 
of dark clouds. Then, as we approached this side, domes 
began to rise out of the water with crosses on their summit, 
church-bell towers or campaniles — houses somewhat dingy, 
like aged marble, of strange architecture ; rows of high, 
arched windows; above these, rows of circular windows; 
canals walled up ; and finally we came to a city sitting on 
the sea, a loveliness resting on the waters, a city of silence 
and beauty. There were some ships visible inside the im- 
mense embankment built to keep out the high, stormy 
waves of the Adriatic, and protect, in calm waters, the 
treasured city of the sea — a loveliness in age, a history in 
waves. It is useless to say we landed, there being no land 
visible. We stopped in the middle of the great lagoon, 
opposite the palace of the Doges. There were no streets, 
but high, palace-looking dwellings, rising from the water on 
each side of long, narrow canals. Many gondolas — long, 
light, graceful, canoe-looking boats — most of them black, 
and with an enclosed tent-like covering over them, looking 
not unlike hearses, came alongside, and we were distributed 
to our hotels, which are placed along the canals in difierent 
parts of the city, ascending to them by steps which came 



VENICE. 329 

down to the water's edge from the huge doors. The hotels 
are generally in old palaces, and have much of Yenitian 
grandeur about them — the city having decayed, not having 
half as many inhabitants as formerly — it has about one 
hundred thousand — and many of the proud old families ex- 
tinct. It is truly a city of silence ; no omnibuses, drays, 
wagons, horses, or carriages being seen — nothing but the 
mysterious gondola, managed with great dexterity — gener- 
ally by two rowers — gliding in all directions, none ever 
coming in contact. Then its steep, arched, marble bridges, 
generally one arch spanning the canals — the bridges are 
four hundred and fifty, the canals one hundred and thirty- 
four — the profusely ornamented houses, the grand palaces 
of marble, all rather surpass expectation than otherwise. 
We find some Americans here — some of the type who in- 
terlard a '' damn " about something in every sentence, who 
pronounce Europe a humbug, and can see nothing in her 
glorious works of art or her relics of history, unaware that 
the reason is in themselves, and that there is nothing in 
them. In civility, politeness — real politeness — deference, 
respect and obedience to authority, general order in the 
cities and in large crowds of people, in ease of manner, ad- 
dress, in works of art and genius, in architectural taste, in 
excellence of railways, depots, and general security to life, 
in established individual reliance, I have no hesitation in 
saying many countries in Europe are far ahead of us Amer- 
icans, nothwithstanding our bombastic, inflated pride. As 
to governments, that is the best government which is th^e 
best administered; and our government, though theoreti- 
cally the best on earth, will be in great danger of becoming 
the worst, through default of its agents, many of whom are 
rapidly becoming corrupt, unprincipled rascals. We have 
so long believed in the motto, "Principles, aot men," that 
we have neglected to observe the reverse is the exact truth, 
and that honest men ought to be the first consideration, and 

2c2 



330 VENICE. 

principles will be the result. The conduct of Americans in 
Europe is sometimes amusing. I observed one on the 
steamer yesterday, who seemed to have attained a comforta- 
ble degree of self-estimation, which he was fearful of having 
disturbed if he should see any thing in Europe that was not 
a great deal worse than in America. He seemed to be rest- 
less till persons about him knew that he had been in Con- 
gress, and could have been President, but for one James 
Buchanan, had lie been nominated in place of Mr. Fill- 
more. While giving our passports to the landlord of the 
hotel to register our names, I said to him, " I believe, sir, 
you are an American." "Yes, sir," said he, "and if you 
ever heard or knew any thing about America, you must 

have heard of me. I am Mr. ." Not long after I 

heard him make the same remark to a foreigner who spoke 
a little English, and who not having heard the name dis- 
tinctly, avowed, in his extra politeness, that he had often 
heard of Mr. Potts, that he had a high esteem for Mr. Potts, 
thought Mr. Potts a distinguished man. The gentleman 
corrected him, that that was not quite his name. This gen- 
tleman, however, is a man of considerable ability, much 
fluency, but a superficial thinker ; and his morality may be 
judged from his remark that " in Yenice he does as Yenice 
does," which is not much of a compliment to his own coun- 
try that he forsakes its manners and morals, and adopts 
those of foreign cities. In conventionalities, matters of 
mere etiquette, it is very well to '^ do in Kome as Eome 
does ;" but no man of sense thinks the great, essential prin- 
ciples of morality are to be changed with one's clime. 
What may be right, or at least innocuous to those bred to it, 
or accustomed to it, may be quite wrong in one whose 
opportunities have been different and greater. 

Yenice, as is well known, stands on what was originally 
a marsh in the Adriatic Sea, which was covered at high tide. 
The islands are nearly one hundred. The gorgeous, rich; 



VENICE. 831 

old city, with its marble palaces, and its splendid churclies, 
lias its foundation in the sea on piles. The basements of 
most of the houses are of stone — the other parts brick — in 
many instances plastered. It has greatly declined from its 
former glory, political influence and trade. It is a beauti- 
ful decay. No new houses have gone up for more than two 
hundred years. Most of what are called its streets, are nar- 
row, paved passages, three or four feet wide, winding be- 
tween high houses, and having numerous bridges, some of 
them marble, where these passages cross the canals. Most 
of the houses front on the canals, with steps into the water, 
from which you get into the gondolas, which are indispensa- 
bly necessary, though it is said one can walk all over the 
city, all the islands being connected by bridges. Yet it is 
the most difficult city in Europe in which to find one's way. 
The gondoliers are about seven thousand in number ; the 
fare is about twenty zechini for each hour's ride in one, with 
one oar. The gondoliers stand up to row ; the fulcrum of 
the oar is an upright piece of wood, a foot high, against 
which the oar rests. The foundations of the buildings, like 
those of Amsterdam, which city bears a remote comparison 
to Yenice, rest on piles. The buildings are best seen from 
the water, as one glides smoothly along in his gondola. 

But I have to-day stood on the summit of the great cam- 
panile or Bell Tower of St. Mark's Piazza, or place, which 
is near four hundred feet high. What a scene of splendor 
— the smooth, sunlit Adriatic Sea — Yenice below, without 
streets, a compact mass of houses, with numerous churches 
and palaces — in the distance the mainland mountains, 
gleaming in the red and pale light of snows, their bases in 
darkness, and their undulating snow wilds alone visible; 
immediately below is the great Piazza San Marco, an im- 
mense, oblong, marble-paved place, with splendid, colonnaded 
buildings around it, among them the Basilica of San Marco, 
with its numerous domes, and the peculiar-looking Doge's 



332 VENICE. 

palace — the multitudes of promenaders on the piazza — the 
Austrian band discoursing fine military music — the other 
sides of the piazza being lined with old Venitian marble pal- 
aces, their fronts resting on arches, making a covered walk 
around the piazza. The church of St. Mark is one thousand 
years old, and has five hundred marble pillars within and 
without. Its floor consists of mosaic marbles, in very 
small, smooth pieces, of many colors. Like St. Sophia's 
church at Constantinople, it is in the form of a Greek cross. 
It has five cupolas. Its paintings, mosaics, and frescoes 
are numerous ; there is a clair-obscure kind of light within, 
which almost magnifies its confusion and profusion of splen- 
dor. There is let into the floor, near the entrance, a line of 
porphyry, to show the place where, in the year 1177, Pope 
Alexander III. placed his foot on the neck of the Emperor 
of Germany, Frederic Barbarossa: which act shows the ex- 
traordinary power of the popes in those days. The columns 
and arches and vaults within the church are of exquisite 
workmanship ; there are rows of columns of verd antique, 
porphyry, serpentine, and other kinds of marbles ; the capi- 
tals of some of the columns represent foliage blown about 
by the wind. In this church the remains of St. Mark, 
brought from Alexandria, are deposited. There are bronze 
horses here, brought from Constantinople, when the Yeni- 
tians took that city in the middle ages ; these are of an 
ancient Roman origin. There are fluted pillars in spirals, 
said to have been brought from the Temple of Jerusalem. 
The bronze doors, with a whole history of legends on them ; 
one door is said to have employed an artist twenty years. 
This church surpasses any thing I have seen in the splendor 
and richness of its adornings — the tesselated marble floors, 
with their devices and mosaic pictures — the lapis lazuli and 
other precious stones. The tomb of the great Doge Dan- 
dolo is here — the last of the Doges buried here. The relics 
here are numerous, a portion of the true cross, a portion of 



DUCAL PALACE. 333 

the dress of the Saviour, a portion of the earth which im- 
bibed his blood, and other things. We heard Mass here, 
and the music of the organ, which reverberates amongst the 
columns and domes in such a manner that one can scarcely 
tell whence it comes ; but it seems a wild, mysterious, rest- 
less spirit, inhabiting the dim-lighted, grand, old Byzantine 
pictures. Alongside of the church is the Doge's palace, 
covered with lead, and partly used as a state prison, having 
subterranean dungeons, the famous lead-lined hall, where 
the formidable Council of Ten sat, and also the great library 
of St. Mark, composed of one hundred and fifty thousand 
volumes, and one thousand rare and valuable manuscripts, 
besides a cabinet of antiquities and a gallery of paintings. 
The architecture seems peculiar — a kind of Oriental Veni- 
tian. On the side next to the water are seventy circular 
windows, resting on Yenitian arches, supported by marble 
pillars. Underneath these are other painted arches and 
sculptured pillars, making a magnificent arcade. Above 
the circular windows extends another very large story of 
variegated brick- work, with but few windows — these large 
and highly ornamented. The effect of this building, with 
its lugubrious memories, is very impressive. The peculiar 
Yenitian style — half Corinthian, half Oriental — the strength, 
and age, and ornaments — the increasing dinginess of the 
marble — then its appearance of being a lingerer from the 
past on the shores of the present, render this building one 
of the most remarkable in Europe. It is said the square 
of St. Mark, on which it is situated, casts into the back 
ground every piazza in Europe, for architectural beauty and 
interest. The only one that can compare with it is, proba- 
bly, the Piazza di San Pietro, at Eome. The Doge's palace 
fronts on the Grand Canal and on this piazza. We entered 
the Ducal Palace, ascending by the Giants' Staircase, where 
the ancient ceremony of crowning the Doges took place, 
and where, according to Byron's drama, Marino Faliero, 



334 DUNGEONS. 

the Doge, delivered his eloquent, last speech, '' I speak to 
Time and to Eternity^ of which I grow a portion — not to 
man," and was then beheaded. We went through the 
Senate Halls, Halls of the Ambassadors, anterooms, rooms 
of the Council of Ten and Council of Three. These are all 
splendid rooms ; their ceilings and sides are magnificent, 
with paintings by Titian, Tintoretto, Paul Veronese, and 
others. Some of the doors are of cedar of Lebanon, 
brought out of churches in the East; the fire-places are 
most richly ornamented with marble carvings ; the pilasters 
of some of them are of verd antique. We also entered the 
Library, a room of regal magnificence, showing how power- 
ful and opulent this great republic was during her thirteen 
hundred years of freedom. It is one hundred and seventy- 
five feet long, eighty-four broad, and fifty-two feet high. 
We saw here the largest painting on canvas in the world — 
Tintoretto's Paradise — eighty-four feet in width, and thirty- 
four feet in height — a powerful painting, though defaced 
and obscured by age. There are many others of excellence, 
including portraits of all the Doges, which are a grand 
border of portraits around the room. That of Marino 
Faliero, who conspired against the government of which he 
was the head, is covered with a vail, with this inscription : 
'' The place of Marino Faliero, decapitated for his crimes." 
From the windows here the view of Venice is grand. From 
this we went into the halls of Grecian and Eoman antique 
sculpture; many objects here are very old and mutilated, 
and disfigured by age. There are some Arabic maps, rep- 
resenting the world before the discovery of America, show- 
ing the state of geographical knowledge. A group of 
sculpture — Ganymede and the Eagle — is said to be by 
Phidias. After entering several rooms, and seeing the 
"Lions' mouths," or where they were, a receptacle for 
anonymous communications accusing any officer of the 
Btate, we descended into the dreary state dungeons under 



DUNGEONS. 335 

the palace, rayless cells, one under the other, and horrific. 
They are like wells in the thick walls of the palace. They 
are very numerous. We saw the spot where the prisoners 
were strangled, then their bodies carried off to the secret 
cemetery, where nothing marked the place. These were 
the prisons for political offenses against the State. Our 
guide said such prisons and secret accusations were neces- 
sary in a republic. You descend by a horrid trap-door, and 
crawl through holes, and you see the miserable pallets, 
about a foot high, on which they slept perhaps — the dun- 
geons being so small, possibly five paces in length, two and 
a half in width, and six high, that no position was com- 
fortable. The guide had a lantern to show us these places. 
There were holes in them for a little air, and also to hand 
the prisoners their food. They have not been used for 
many years. Then we went over the '' Bridge of Sighs," 
a narrow, covered passage across a canal, serving as a com- 
munication between the Ducal Palace and a large, fine 
building, the prison for ordinary criminals. The guide 
asserts that prisoners, after being condemned in the palace, 
went across this bridge, where, through two gratings in the 
side, they took their last look at Venice — " saw from out the 
wave her structures rise" — sighed, then went into the 
prisons ; whence they were, when to be executed, conducted 
by another passage, now walled up, into a cell, and there 
strangled. It is a dreary, narrow passage, and was doubt- 
less trodden by the feet of sorrow for many years. " The 
'palace and the prison" are thus on each hand. Sir John 
Cam Hobhouse, who wrote the notes to the Fourth Canto of 
Childe Harold, describes these places admirably. The 
other sides of the Piazza di San Marco are surrounded by 
splendid shops and governmeat buildings, cafes, etc. There 
are columns, some brought from Constantinople, others 
from St. John of Acre. Some are surmounted with lions, 
others with martyrs; there is the great, dark tower, with its 



836 PALACES. 

dial in the centre, representing tlie Zodiac, and two statues 
in bronze, that strike the hours twice over, at intervals of 
five minutes. There is a flock of pigeons that comes every- 
day at two o'clock into the square, of unknown origin; 
they are fed at the expense of the government, and pro- 
tected with superstitious care by the people. There are two 
great, granite pillars, fronting the Grand Canal, one of which 
is surmounted by a celebrated bronze winged lion, brought 
from Constantinople in the middle ages. 

To-day we have devoted to the palaces of Yenice. The 
hotel in which we stay was formerly a palace — the Palazzo 
Grassi. The rooms are very high ; there is much carving 
around the mirrors — much painting on the ceilings — sev- 
eral large halls floored with cement, into which are let bits 
of marbles, polished and smoothed. It stands on the Grand 
Canal, and has an air of Venitian splendor. Our party, 
consisting of an English gentleman, a lady and gentleman 
from New York, and myself, having hired a gondola, with 
two rowers, for twelve swanizigers, about two dollars, pro- 
ceeded along the Grand Canal, which winds through the city 
in the form of an S. It is lined with dingy palaces of mar- 
ble, risinor out of the water. Manv of them are most 
splendid, internally and externally. Some combine three 
orders of architecture — Doric, Ionic, and Composite — in 
their fagade. Many of them are historical, belonging for- 
merly to old, extinct families of the Doges. There were 
those of the Foscari — the Merceria, in which Lord Byron 
lived — that of Manini, the last of the Doges — that of Con- 
tarini, and numerous others, with marble steps down to the 
water's edge. Their names were pointed out as we passed, 
by the gondoliers. We stopped at the Manfrini palace, in 
which is an excellent collection of paintings by Yenitian 
masters. There are ten rooms, splendidly ornamented with 
many remarkable paintings ; some fossil remains were also 
shown, and many specimens of rich, marble tables; the 



VENICE. 337 

floor was of cement, curiously inlaid with small pieces of 
marbles. The Yenitian school of painting, of which Titian 
stands at the head, is remarkable for richness of colors, 
general dignity, and aristocratic grandeur of position, and 
apparently high enjoyment of life, in delineation. The 
chief works of Titian, who lived nearly a century — born, 
1477 ; died, 1576 — are in Yenice. The Manfrinis are gone 
with all their glory, as well as most of the proud, old Yenitian 
nobility. Some get poor, and sell the rich collections of 
paintings, considered invaluable by their ancestors. Some 
sell the materials of their palaces ; but seventy-five having 
been demolished in this way, an order from the government 
put a stop to it. We visited, also, the Academy della Bella 
Arta, and strolled through its large and fine halls, which 
have numerous and highly life-like paintings. Some are 
nearly three hundred years old, and belong to the pre- 
Raphael school. The best are by Titian, Tintoretto — born, 
1512 ; died, 1594 — and Paul Yeronese — born, 1528 ; died, 
1588 — and Giocondo — born, 1477 ; died, 1511. Some of 
the paintings are much injured by time and neglect. Sev- 
eral were removed to Paris, but returned on the downfall of 
the first Empire. One painting here represents an old 
Yenitian legend — how that on a dark and stormy night, 
when the sea had risen five or six feet, and was still 
rising, a boatman was requested by a stranger to row him 
to a certain place, which he at first declined; the myste- 
rious stranger promised to protect him from the storm, and 
pay him well. They stopped at other points, took up two 
others, and finally, in the midst of a terrible gale, met a 
large vessel manned with devils, who proclaimed that they 
were about to sink Yenice into the sea, because a school- 
master had sold his soul to the devil, and then hung him- 
self. At sight of the three persons, who then appeared to be 
the buried corpses of St. Mark and other saints, the diabol- 
ical fleet disappeared, the sea became calm, and Yenice was 
22 2d 



338 CHUKCHES. 

saved. Tlie church adjoining the Academy of Fine Arts, iS 
remarkable for its fine marble carvings, its carvings in 
wood, and much splendor generally. 

We have devoted a day to the churches of Venice, and 
have visited several of them, '^rhey are in all styles — mod- 
ern, Italian, Lombard, Gothic, etc. They are all finely 
ornamented by the art and genius of the Venitians of old 
times, and the variety and extent, the profusion of objects 
of beauty, pictures, tombs, altars, is almost painful. 
Painting and sculpture and art of all kinds have done their 
best, and the eye almost tires, and is " satisfied with seeing." 
In the church " dei Frari," is the great tomb of Titian, with 
its groups of mourners in sculpture, and its simple inscrip- 
tion, '' Here lies the Titian " ; the tombs of several Doges, 
and of Canova also. Nothing could scarcely be more im- 
pressive, splendid, or grand, than this rich, old, immense 
church, with its magnificent religious ceremonies, and the 
fine Italian, though somewhat operatic music here, and the 
golden sunlight shining on the works of art. The weather 
is fine here; the snows and cold of Berlin, Prague, and 
Vienna seem all left behind. We were also in the Church 
of the Jesuits, which has a fine painting by Titian — St. 
Lawrence on the burning coals. Tlie altar has ten twisted 
columns, solid blocks of verd antique; the ceiling is sur- 
prisingly grand. The pavement is in mosaic. L^nderneath 
a small slate, in front of the altar, rest the remains of 
Manini, the last of the Venitian Doges. "The ashes of 
Manini to their eternity," is the simple and beautiful inscrip- 
tion in Latin. The church of San. Giovanni e Paolo con- 
tains, it is said, the ashes of twenty Doges, and among many 
other fine paintings, Titian's Martyrdom of Peter Martyr, 
reckoned the third finest painting in the world by some. It 
is much defaced and dim; but the expression of the fright- 
ened soldier's face is wonderful. This church is undergoing 
repairs. There are solemn and devotional exercises going 



VENICE. 339 

on almost all the time in these churches, and the music 
might be imagined angelic, witliout doing much injustice to 
the angels ; organs, stringed and brass instruments, all utter 
notes and wails and strains and melodies, to me at least, en- 
tirely new in the domain of the empire of sound. We 
visited many other churches — there are seventy in all in 
Venice — and then the Campo Santo, or melancholy burying 
ground, on an island, and there we saw the sun sink into 
the sea, among the minarets and domes and spires of per- 
ishing, retrograding, but beautiful and wonderful Venice. 
Notwithstanding the splendor and pageantry of their beau- 
tiful religion, which they make at least as much a thing of 
this world as of the other, no people seem to live more for, 
and in the present, than do the Venitians ; and nowhere 
does life, this human life, appear under so graceful and 
pleasing an aspect. The soft and delicious language — the 
most musical of all the Italian dialects — the processions, the 
gilded churches, the night scenes on the grand, gas-lit 
piazza, all seem to demonstrate a people who drink in 
enjoyment with every breath, and whom nothing can make 
or feel serious, except the mention of their Austrian rulers. 
The priests are assumed to take care of and be responsible 
for their souls' salvation, and life is then a short and delight- 
some drama. The regular prostitutes are said to number 
twelve thousand, and all the rest ready and willing to be- 
come so for a consideration or temptation. But to-morrow 
we leave Venice. I have stood to-night on the Rialto, the 
great, marble, one-arched bridge, the span of whose arch is 
ninety -five feet, the width of it seventy-five feet, three streets 
or passages on it, and twenty-four shops in two rows. The 
blue air was sprinkled with stars, and below me was the 
Grand Canal, with its palaces on each side. There were 
crowds of Venitians hurrying across the bridge. A money 
changer has an oflGice at one end, reminding one of Shylock, 
who was here '^ rated " by Antonio. The Italians decline, 



340 ITALY. 

but live " patiently on." The heel of the Austrian is on 
their neck. Thus it is with nations — they have their great- 
ness and decline — their youthdom, their manhood, and their 
decline. It is never vouchsafed to the same soil or the same 
people to be twice great. Among the other places which 
we visited in Yenice, is the Arsenal. These buildings are 
very extensive. In front of them are four lions, in Grecian 
marble, of singular aspect and great fame, said to have been 
brought from Athens, and one of them to have stood as a 
monument on the field of Marathon. 

This is Italy — fair, lovely, romantic, ruined Italy — the 
Magdalene of nations — the fallen, lovely sister of all coun- 
tries — beautiful in decay, and lovely in ruin — the fallen 
angel among the kingdoms of the earth. It is incompetent 
for human speech to express the hatred these people have 
for their Austrian rulers. In Yenice this hatred is subdued 
and tearful, hopeless and plaintive ; in other parts of Italy, 
more fierce and bloody. It is an awful thing to enslave a 
proud, ancient, historical people, who have genius and in- 
tellect, but no power. Italy is the desolate and degraded 
Eve, still lingering in Paradise. She is the woman — 
"lovely, harmless thing" — conquered and rifled by the 
stern, rude, heartless, coarse, large, beastly, infernal Aus- 
trians. Yet the Italian can retire to his arts, his history, 
and his memory, and wait the efflux of time. Will the 
future have nothing for America to do in Europe ? Are 
not our principles calculated to be universal as man, and 
limitless as the planet? What business the Austrians have 
to rule in Italy is a problem. They are a different people 
altogether — cold, phlegmatic, and with blood borrowed from 
the greasy seal or oily whale. The Gordian knot of the 
Italian question ought to be cut by the sword. Austria got 
Italy as the price of her adhesion to the " unholy" Alliance 
of 1815, when one million of Germans had to be supplied 
to conquer one man. But that man was Napoleon. She 



VERONA. 341 

sold the blood of daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, to get 
Ital_y. The erasure of Austria from the map of Italy, is 
the legitimate, inheritable, descendible vengeance of the 
Bonaparte family. It is their treasured, peculiar, private, 
and highly valued revenge. The French have no disgrace 
to erase from the day of Waterloo. They performed prodi- 
gies of valor, and failed because Napoleon committed the 
error of judgment in deeming a communication and concur- 
rence with Marshal Grouchy not absolutely essential. An 
army is not disgraced when fairly beaten. But there is a 
meanness about the treatment of the man of modern times 
at St. Helena, and a cool, deliberate, villainous contempt in 
the manner with which the Austrians sacrificed Napoleon, 
when he had twice saved their monarchy from extinction, 
that will require a large investiture of future French fury. 
The floodgate current of modern, human, popular improve- 
ment, beats in vain against the embankment of Austrian 
tyranny. But she will come down yet, and may she have 
no resurrection, except to damnation. 

But we are away again. We left "beautiful Yenice" 
this morning, by rail, for Verona, where we now are. The 
day was most lovely. We took our last look at the grand 
Piazza di San Marco, bounded by palaces, at the beautiful 
Cathedral of St. Mark, and at the Ducal Palace, wound our 
way for the last time, forever, through the narrow passages 
between the great square and the Grand Canal, got into a 
gondola, and were rowed to the railway station. The rail- 
way first passes a very long, narrow bridge, from the Yeni- 
tian Islands to the mainland, then a low and level country 
with many avenues of trees, then across the Brenta river. 
There were high, irregular peaks of mountains on our left ; 
on our right, those of the Tyrol, covered with snow. We now 
entered an ancient-looking and hilly country, with several 
picturesque ruins on the hills, went through some tunnels, 
passed old towns or stations — those of Padua and Yicenza 

2 d2 



842 VERONA. 

looked beautiful arnono- their hills — with neat villas, and 
Roman ruins looking down on them. We came into the 
vine and mulberry region again. Vicenza and Padua are 
very interesting and ancient towns, with many fine palaces, 
paintings, and relics of tribes who preceded the Romans in 
Italy. We also passed near the battle ground of Areola^ 
in which Kapoleon, seizing a standard, planted it amidst a 
tempest of shot on a bridge, and being in extreme danger, 
was carried off by his own men, and finally, getting into a 
morass up to his middle, was about being surrounded by the 
enemy, when the cry, '^Forward, to save the General!" re- 
sounding through the French ranks, they rushed on, extri- 
cated him, and gained a victory. The country seemed 
fertiley but age seemed to set heavily on land and people. 
We reached Yerona at three o'clock, distant sixty-six miles 
from Yenice. It also sits upon hills, with a proud castle, 
manned by Austrian troops, on one of them. Through it 
flows, rapidly, the Adige, a considerable stream, which is 
crossed by four very fine stone bridges — one of them a 
strange, ancient-looking structure. You feel you are in 
Italy when you enter the gates of this town, enclosed by 
old walls. You hire a commissionaire : he takes you first 
to the Cathedral, a large building, eight hundred years old. 
You see the usual tombs in the floor. You are shown the 
Byzantine sculptures on each side of the door, with marble 
lions guarding the entrance. Back of and above the altar 
is a painting, apparently of great merit. The figures, in 
their attitudes and expressions, are all striking; seldom 
have I seen any more so. It is an Ascension of the Yirgin, 
by Titian. The Emperor Napoleon seized on it, and carried 
it to Paris. You are shown, in another part of the town, a 
Roman gate, strange and dark in its age, and with inscrip- 
tions and sculptures. It is of the age of the Emperor Gal- 
lienus, A. D. 265, whose name yet remains among the 
inscriptions. You are now presented with a beautiful view 



VERONA. 343 

of the Adige, with its quaint old bridge; and then con- 
ducted to an immense, oval, stone structure, which, when 
once seen, leaves on the mind impressions of gloom, age, 
and strength, never to be effaced. It is a Eoman or Etrus- 
can amphitheatre; probably the best preserved in Italy. 
The guide says its age is unknown. "■ It is Eoman — that is 
all." You enter through an arched gate in the thick walls, 
in which were the dens for the beasts of all countries, and 
find yourself in an oval area-, with terraces of stone steps 
ascending all around, capable of accommodating twenty-five 
thousand spectators. It is impossible to describe its strong 
magnificence. In the large arena embraced by the seats, 
were the combats of the wild beasts and the gladiatorial 
shows. It is still used for public exhibitions, and is proba- 
bly, at the least, two thousand years old. The present 
height is,^n some places, about one hundred feet, and por- 
tions of a highly ornamented outside wall, much higher, yet 
remain, as also elevated seats for the governors of the 
Province. Many of the cells for the wild animals are now 
used as shops. The building is constructed of very large 
blocks of Yerona marble. Its circumference is fourteen 
hundred and seventy feet. It seems strong enough in its 
gloomy, giant strength, to last as manj^ centuries yet as it 
has already done. It is calculated the number of outer 
arches was, originally, seventy-two. You are next shown 
in the yard of a very ancient church, the tombs of the 
Scaliger family, ancient dukes of Yerona. There are two 
principal ones, rising forty or fifty feet high, or four stories, 
richly and solidly built, of Yerona marble, and beautifully 
surrounded with figures — men, saints, angels, and horses. 
Others are hexagonal, with Corinthian columns supporting 
the lower story, and surrounded by iron trellis-work. Some 
are in a plain sarchophagus, resting on figures of mastiff' 
dogs. Some of the tombs, which really look beautiful in 
their enclosure of iron- work alongside of a crowded street, are 



844 LOMBARDY. 

more than five hundred years old. Adjoining is a small, 
ancient chapel, which I entered. It contains a figure of the 
Saviour, that seemed remarkably vivid in its expression of 
suffering agony. There were the usual quiet worshipers, 
kneeling around the dim candles and paintings. Yerona 
has about sixty-two thousand inhabitants. It is the scene 
of Shakspeare's Eomeo and Juliet. The tomb of the latter 
is still shown. The castle of the Oapulet family is now an 
Inn. Verona was the birth-place of Cornelius Nepos, 
Catullus, the elder Pliny, and Paul Veronese. We have 
some of the loveliest sunsets imaginable. I crossed the 
bridge over the Adige, ascended the stone steps leading to 
the high hill, on which is situated the Austrian fort com- 
manding the town. The prospect from the platform of the 
fort is of extraordinary richness. The peaks of snow moun- 
tains, rugged and cold-looking, the last ridges oS the Alps 
toward Italy, are very near; below is the town, with its 
river, the bridges, and the strong and high wall, defended 
with towers manned with soldiers. There are also the 
spires and domes of the sixty churches of Verona. Among 
other objects are the floating water-mills, anchored in the 
stream. 

We left Verona this morning, Thursday, December 10th. 
Our course lay along the Alps of the Tyrol and Switzer- 
land, having them on our right, and the level country of 
Italian Lombardy on our left. The latter is under most 
admirable cultivation, having numerous avenues of trees 
intersecting all the farms. In some places, too, the moun- 
tains are terraced. I counted in one place twenty terraces, 
ascending the mountain like steps. We passed by a beau- 
tiful blue lake — Lago di Grarda — lying at the foot of the 
Alps. I saw a beautiful little island in it, with villas, gar- 
dens, avenues. We passed numerous villages, some stud- 
ded on the mountain side, and many small streams of water, 
^ed by the Alpine snows, and many dry beds of torrents 



MILAN. 345 

which are swollen into rivers when the snows melt on the 
Alps. The streams of water generally are remarkably clear 
and beautiful. The scene on the left is entirely different 
from that on the right : while on the right were snows and 
bare mountains, on our left lay level fields, which peasants 
were plowing. There were long rows of Lombardy poplars 
and other trees among the vine plantations. The towns of 
Bergamo and Brescia on our right particularly impressed 
us by the beauty of their situation. The towers all have 
walls around them, with castles and strong Austrian gar- 
risons in them. The Austrian emperor tyrannizes over 
their bodies and the Pope over their souls. Priests and 
Austrian soldiers are almost equally numerous. On many 
of the churches in Verona one may see written, '' Plenary 
Indulgence," for various periods, both for the "living and 
the dead"-^a license being thus sold, and a regular trade 
being had in sin. In numerous places along the streets 
were such inscriptions in Italian or Latin, as, " Mother of 
God, pray for us !" and little shrines are numerous in all 
places, having representations of the Virgin and Child, or 
of the sufferings of Christ. But at length we approached 
Milan, ninety miles from Venice. The railway diverges 
from the mountains into the level lands of Lombardy, the 
long avenues of trees became more numerous, and the coun- 
try assumed an appearance of cultivated beauty rarely 
equalled. The spires of the churches of Milan became visi- 
ble. We underwent the ordeal of cab and omnibus drivers, 
and soon, passing through one of the ancient gateways, 
found ourselves in this large, elegant, and busy Italian 
city — the principal city of the Austrian Lombardo-Venitian 
kingdom. It is reckoned one of the most populous coun- 
tries in regard to territory in Europe, having one hundred 
and seventy-six inhabitants to the square mile — more than 
Belgium, Holland, or France. We have passed, in coming 
from Venice to Milan, over a portion of the finest part of 



346 MILAN. 

this territory. There are many millions of lemon trees in 
this part of the country. A few yards of ground, planted 
in lemons, suffice, in this part of the country, to maintain a 
whole family. The people seem to be principally employed 
in the cultivation of the vine, which is raised on the slopes 
or terraces, and in the mulberrv and olive trees: the 
former, for the silkworm : the latter, for its oil. There are 
numerous herds of cattle. The herdmen ascend to great 
heights on the Alps in the summer, but as winter ap- 
proaches descend into the valleys. Wax and honey are 
collected. Italy ranks higher for her silk than any other 
nation. Austria acquired the greater portion of this terri- 
tory as the price of unnatural treachery, on the downfall 
of Napoleon, by the treaty of Vienna, in 1814. Entering 
Milan in the dusk of the evening, as we did, its effect is 
impressive. We saw its long brick wall ; the canal which 
runs around the city; the narrow streets, crowded with 
people ; the high houses ; finally, the great Cathedral, the 
third greatest church in the world, clothed with numberless 
statues, miniature turrets, mitres, all of marble, rising high 
above every other building, and almost mingling with the 
stars of evening — a glory and a loveliness. It is only sur- 
passed by St. Peter's in Eome and St, Paul's in London. 
We spent several days in Milan, looking at its churches, 
monuments of old, and its citizens. I entered the great 
Cathedral, saw its four rows of columns, Gothic, grand, and 
high ; its dim, old, historically, and scripturally painted 
windows, its tombs and its paintings of rare merit. It is 
all of marble, and is almost clothed outside with statues, 
there being in all four thousand two hundred of them. 
Many of them are elevated on pedestals, outside and around 
the church, on its turrets and minarets. There are saints, 
angels, apostles, prophets; and among them appears that 
of the first Napoleon, he having contributed a large sum to 
finish the church, which had been building four hundred 



MILAN. 847 

and seventy years. When within, the impression produced 
on the mind is truly a grand one. The ceiling seems a 
network of marble. The great height of the columns, their 
number, the vast space inclosed b}^ the sculptured walls, 
the high Gothic arched windows, seem to soothe the mind 
into a religious devotion. But I ascended to the summit 
of the tower, more than five hundred steps, whence is a 
view that might almost "i^edeem all sorrow." On the north 
and west you have the Alps — Mont Eosa., Mont Cenis, the 
Jungfrau, glowing in snow, with many less and nearer 
mountains. The spire is not so high as that at Strasburgh, 
but the view is much finer. You have below the old city, 
of one hundred and seventy thousand inhabitants, with its 
walls, its ten beautiful gates, its canal, fine streets and 
squares. South and east is the plain of Italy, in which the 
river Po flows. The Apennines can be seen and the city 
of Cremona, while immediately around and below you is the 
wondrous embodiment of art; the Cathedral. The Austrian 
military bands in all these towns are fine ; and at change 
of guard, about mid-day, they perform in some public 
square for about an hour. While on the Cathedral, the 
powerful complaining of the music below gave a strong 
interpretation of the scene. The length of this church is 
four hundred and eighty-five feet, breadth two hundred and 
fifty-two, height in the inside one hundred and fifty-three 
feet; height to the statue of the Madonna on the spire three 
hundred and fifty-five feet. The form is that of a Latin 
cross. No less than one hundred and eighty-four master 
architects, superintending the work, have been employed 
on it since the first stone was laid in 1886. It is all of 
white marble, and the style is the Italian Gothic. Among 
the tombs there is one to San Carlo Borromeo, part of whose 
body lies exposed to view, all withered and decayed, but 
invested with gorgeous apparel. There are eighty -one 
churches in Milan. With a guide I visited some of Ihem — 



348 MILAN. 

some of them very impressive in their age and architecture. 
The Church of St. Lorenzo, built out of the ruins of a temple 
of Bacchus or Hercules, and having on some of the columns 
inscriptions of the time of Julius Csesar, looks all strange, 
Roman, and antique, with its old mosaics and paintings. 
There are sixteen Roman columns, which are shattered and 
mouldering. I saw many other churches; one, that of 
St. Victoria, is ornamented all internally — sides, ceilings, 
columns, etc., with most elaborate works — a volume of 
study and beauty. There are compartments of raised work, 
foliage, figures, exquisite tracery, etc. By the side of 
another church stands a solitary Corinthian column, frag- 
ment of some temple of Roman times, a lingerer in the 
present hour and remote period. Many of the convents 
and some of the churches were by Napoleon turned into 
barracks for his troops. One of these, Santa Maria delle 
Grazie, contains in the refectory used by the Dominicans, 
the much mutilated, severed, but most wonderful and pow- 
erful work of Leonardo da Yinci — the '^Last Supper." 
I stood and gazed at it long. The greatness of true, deep, 
earnest, sad genius is there. The Saviour's whole attitude 
expresses wounded, solemn, majestic, overflowing love, into 
which has come a mournful prescience. The Twelve are 
sitting around a table, and appear to have been expressing 
their confidence and regard for him. He says, " Yerily I 
say unto you that one of you will betray me." There is 
wounded love on account ot the ingratitude of Judas, sor- 
row for its effects on the criminal, and then there is the 
godlike majesty of resignation. All seem suddenly as- 
tounded. Peter clenches a knife. Li the whole range of 
all the paintings I have seen there is nothing comparable 
for gesthetic grandeur to the head of the Saviour. It was 
begun in 1493, and occupied sixteen years. It is an oil 
painting on the wall. The painting is faded, and parts 
have peeled off; soldiers have pricked it with their bayo- 



MILAN. 349 

nets; the refectory has been flooded with water; indifferent 
artists have essayed to repaint or restore it ; the room was 
occupied as a stable — as a hay magazine. DaYinci himself 
declared he would leave the head of the Saviour unfinished, 
to indicate no mortal could do justice to such a head; but 
yet it is indisputably, undeniably, and undoubtedly the 
highest and grandest production in the world. Raphael's 
" Transfiguration" at Rome, as a whole, may equal it, but 
the single head of the Saviour here stands alone and unap- 
proachable. It is calculated it may last five hundred years 
from the time it was begun. The next generation is the 
last that will see it distinctly, as it is fading away. I also 
visited the Picture Gallery, or Brena, which, though by no 
means equal to that in Dresden, contains many fine paint- 
ings and frescoes or paintings on walls. There is the 
''Mart3'rdom of St. Catherine" particularly. The beauty 
of her face has nothing gross or earthly — it is pure, reli- 
gious, unearthly loveliness, calmness and faith. She was 
broken alive on the wheel. There are five hundred or six 
hundred paintings in all. Milan has many very splendid 
shops, and was once the Paris of Europe — the word milliner 
having reference to fashions, originating from the name of 
the city. The inhabitants are strongly inclined to repub- 
licanism. In 1848 they overthrew the Austrian govern- 
ment, got possession of the citadel; but, for lack of good 
leaders and concert with other Italians, were soon put 
down. We took our departure from Milan for Vigevano, 
by Diligence, which went slowly along with three horses 
abreast. On our right were yet the snowy Alps, on our left 
the level, rich plains of Italy. The road lay along a canal, 
from which departed numerous small streams, watering the 
meadows, turning old-fashioned mills, and rendering them- 
selves useful in various ways. We passed many dirty - 
looking villages, with shrines, cathedrals, crucifixes, ave- 
nues of trees — but nothing seemed to present any temptation 

2 E 



350 SARDINIA — GENOA. 

to "doit" with Murray in hand. Many of the people 
looked degenerate,' and decrepit, and ngly. Some begged, 
previously repeating, as if by rote, some obscure Italian 
prayer. We have seen but few beggars since we left En- 
gland till now. It is scarcely permitted in any part of the 
Austrian dominions ; and it must be admitted there is a 
vigor about the Austrian government, and a kind of firm, 
politic discharge of duty on the part of the officials, that is 
admirable. When approaching the outskirts of Austrian 
Italy, passports were demanded. Knowing the strictness 
of Austrian officials, we took care to have them all right. 
We now crossed the Ticino on a flying bridge, and entered 
the kingdom of Sardinia. Passports again examined, and 
baggage searched. The great demand is for tobacco, the 
sale of which is a government monopoly. If any is found 
it is seized, or one is obliged to pay a fine. We at length 
arrived at the gloomy, miserable town of Yigevano, where 
we remain an hour or two, waiting for the cars. It is a 
strange place. The people look like regular Italian cut- 
throats. The houses rest on arches : they enclose dirty old 
squares, lonely and desolate; black cats run about the 
house-tops. The people rob you with their eyes — and 
perhaps would hardly respect the Virgin Mary if she came 
along in a Diligence instead of appearing as in some 
glorious creation of an ancient painter's pencil. The rail- 
way train came by at length, and we were soon on our way 
to Genoa, the brightly -starred Italian night-sky above. He 
sees Italy only half who does not gaze often on its sky, 
from which the greatness of its past seems to look down in 
loveliness. We crossed the Po, came to the ancient and 
famous town of Alessandria.; then near the battle-field of 
Marengo, where Napoleon, with twenty thousand men, 
accepted battle tendered to him by General Melas, with 
forty thousand Austrians — was defeated up to six in the 
evening — when Dessaix arriving with his reserve of five 



GENOA. 351 

thousand troops, remarked, " I think this is a battle lost." 
Napoleon said, "I think it is a battle won;" ordered Dessaix 
forward, who was shot through the head at the first charge. 
Napoleon said, "Alas, I cannot weep now!" rallied his 
retreating forces, and annihilated the whole Austrian army. 
We passed through a very hilly country, forming parts 
of the Alps and Apennines, fled through tunnel after tun- 
nel, one of them two miles long, the whole railway being a 
splendid triumph of engineering skill, and at length we 
came to a milder aired scene and an orange land, and 
stopped in Genoa the Superb, one of the most pleasant of 
all the Italian cities. It is not like Venice, built in the sea, 
or on it, but on slopes of high Apennine hills, bleak and 
bare, apparently, which form a little bay in the Mediterra- 
nean. You take a stroll next morning. The delicious sun 
shines through the transparent sky. The streets or pas- 
sages are, as usual in Italy, very narrow, but the houses are 
high, princely and massive, with arched gateways, leading 
into open, central courts, with Corinthian pillars. The 
streets are well paved, watered, and swept ; and their nar- 
rowness, together with the extreme height of the houses, 
renders them shady and pleasant — a desideratum in a warm 
climate. Since leaving Austria proper the climate seems 
changed. We have now delicious bright skies, a vast 
abundance of light, and clear air, which has a sort of per- 
meating gayety. 

The streets here are crowded with gay promenaders ; the 
women wear no bonnets, but a light muslin scarf, peculiar 
to Grenoa, thrown over their head and shoulders and de- 
scending to their feet in many cases. But they are not as 
pretty, as handsome, as fine-looking, or as beautiful as 
American girls, whom inclination, patriotism, and truth, all 
combine in commanding me to declare as the most beauti- 
ful, decidedly, of any women I have yet seen anywhere. 
Our women in America are great, lovely, and patriotic, and 



352 GENOA. 

superior to all other women. Tlie women of Prague hare* 
a peculiar, physical, oriental, and rather dark beauty ; those 
of Italy, whom I have seen, are very graceful, easily acces- 
sible, affable. The orange and lemon grow here, and fine 
roses look at you, hanging over ancient garden walls, as if 
departing summer had flung her flowery garb backward. 
The white orange flower, in its purity and beauty and fra- 
grance, is out in its glory, and the sun covers the land with 
his beams of love. It is Italy, the land loved by the sun. 
But through a long vista of houses, behold the blue sea at 
last — the Mediterranean, to whose shores we have come — • 
the sea of history, of empire, of Eome and Greece. Its soft 
waves come up and kiss these Alpine hills, while on the 
other side it stretches away into lost distance, like history 
retiring into the night of noteless ages gone. But the soft 
winds come from it, and the spiritual light dances on it as 
if it loved its azure bosom; and here and there, in the 
harbor of Genoa, are vessels of many climes, with their 
many-colored flags, rejoicing in the prosperity and riches of 
the sea of Europe. 

We are now in the Sardinian dominions, to which Genoa 
belongs, though for many ages it was independent, under 
the name of Eepublic of Genoa. At the reconstruction of 
Europe, on the fall of Napoleon, it was added to the king- 
dom of Sardinia. It is very hilly. You go up long, nar- 
row streets, enter narrow passages, enclosed with walls. 
There are many old walls surrounding the city, remnants 
of its past fortifications. Many terraces are also back of 
the city, ascending the high hills. Some of these enclosures 
consist of gardens and orange orchards. Outside of all, 
however, is a strong, high wall, with numerous forts on 
various lofty hills. These fortifications are thought to 
render the city impregnable to any land attack whatever. 
From any of these points, views of rare beauty may be 
obtained of the sea and the city, which fronts on it, toward 



GENOA. 353 

the south. The inhabitants here are very industrioub-, and 
seem to be almost Dutch Italians. The population is over 
one hundred thousand. The people are occupied in gold 
and silver work, filagree, coral, embroidery in cambric and 
velvet, making iron bedsteads — which latter are very fine, 
and it would be well to introduce them into America. The 
houses are, many of them, palatial ; and on the whole, 
Genoa is probably the third city in Europe, in regard to 
beauty of situation, ranking after JSTaples and Constantinople. 
To an American, it is associated with the name of Columbus. 
With a guide, to-day, we visited several places of interest, 
among them the Palazza, or palace, Doria Trusi. The archives 
of the city are kept there. I remarked to the guide, Columbus 
was a great man. I was amused by the earnestness of his re- 
ply, " my God ! he was the greatest man in the world !" The 
papers of Columbus are kept more securely than any thing 
I have ever seen — being secured in a special receptacle, 
which requires three keys to unlock it. Here, preserved in 
valuable frames, are the manuscript letters of Columbus. 
His name is signed by himself, somewhat singularly. The 
family name, which is Colombo in Italian, is not put down 
Christo is indicated by the three Greek letters, XPO, 
the ancient Christian symbol for Christ. The other part 
of the name is in Latin, FERENS — all indicating, "he 
that brings, or carries Christ." There are, also, copies of 
his will, and some other things relative to him, all of which 
are held in great estimation ; and the polite Genoese gentle- 
man who showed them, was not displeased at the interest an 
American felt in regard to them. Few men more certainly 
had a mission than Columbus — few pursued their mission 
with more earnestness — few under greater hardships ; none 
whatever have accomplished a mission more pregnant with 
important results. He was somewhat of a visionary, and 
may be so considered ; but his visions were those of 
prophecy. There are none of his family remaining in 
23 2 E 2 



3^54 GENOA. 

Grenoa. Some of them exist in Spain — the Duike of 
Yeraganos being the head of the family. The honors con- 
ferred on Columbus by the King of Spain were almost 
princely, but they availed him nothing. His native country 
has little reason to be proud of her treatment of him, and 
Spain still less. The former rejected his proposals with 
contempt; the latter profited by his discoveries, then dis- 
graced, and almost starved him — brought him from the 
New World in chains, of which, however, the king was 
ashamed, and on his landing in Spain, commanded them to 
be stricken off, which Cokimbus refused to have done, and 
marched with them on him to the capital. From this we 
visited the Goldsmiths' street — manufactories in gold con- 
stituting much of the trade of Genoa. It is lined with 
shops of great splendor. In the street, alongside of one of 
the houses, is a small painting, protected by a glass case. 
It is the favorite subject of the old painters — the Holy 
Family — and is of most rare merit, and by a pupil whose 
works are very rare — having been assassinated, it is said, 
at an early age, by his master, through jealousy. Napoleon 
wanted to carry it off to Paris. The goldsmiths, to whose 
corporation it belonged, told him they could not resist him 
by force, but would never give it up — upon which he con- 
sented that it should remain. The picture is on stone, and 
is surmounted by a wrought canopy, and there is generally 
a lamp burning near it. The goldsmiths around ply vigor- 
ously at their calling, and gaze up with respect at this 
ancient, fraternal link, uniting them to each other and the 
past. But from this I visited a very ancient-looking church, 
once the chapel of the Doria family. I was led through low 
cloisters and dark corridors, and saw gloomy-looking, an- 
cient statues, in secluded backgrounds of old churches, by 
sepulchral-looking priests. This was the church of St. 
Stephanus. Over the portal was written in Latin, " One of 
the Seven Churches." At length I stood before a picture, 



GENOA. 355 

covered with a curtain, which; for a small fee, the priest 
withdrew, and I gazed on a sublime painting, part of which 
it is said was done by Eaphael. It represented the Stoning 
of Stephen. The attitude and unconscious seraphic devo- 
tion upon the face of Stephen, as he gazes up and sees 
heaven open, and Jesus sitting on the right hand of God, 
are almost superhuman, while the interest and almost anxi- 
ety thrown into the appearance and countenance of Christ, 
are equally grand. But the eye, and heart too, rest with 
almost painful interest on the upraised face of Stephen, 
which seems to have the beauty of inspiration of one who 
beheld Heaven. I visited, also, a much newer church on a 
high hill — the church of St. Carignano. It has some good 
paintings, but its chief charm is its great view of the Gulf 
of Genoa, the Apennines, of the city itself, with its walls, 
forts, hills, palaces, and terraces. I ascended the tower to 
the platform, and saw all these beneath the sun of an Italian 
sky. The island of Corsica can be discerned, it is said, at 
times from this point. I also visited the church of St. 
Ambrosia. I saw here two very fine paintings — that of the 
Assumption of the Virgin, by Guido Eeni. This is a most 
divine painting. She is represented as floating upward; 
but the chief charm of this, as well as all other fine paint- 
ings, is that utterance of soul beneath — the rendering of 
feeling and mind almost visible on the canvas. There is 
here, also, a fine painting by Rubens. The church is splen- 
did and gorgeous in the rich mosaic, marbled, profuse 
Italian style; from the vaulting down to the pavement, all 
is gold and rich coloring. I also visited the Cathedral, 
built in a very curious style, in layers of black and white 
marble. "Within is a chapel, containing the relics of St. 
John the Baptist, into which no female is permitted to enter, 
except one day in the year, as a punishment for the conduct 
of Herodias. There are four porphyry pillars supporting a 
canopy. I visited other places— the Ducal Palace, the fine 



356 GENOA. 

Cafe Conconclia; under the orange and lemon trees, and 
where "form and fall the cascades," heard the English 
and Scotch services on Sunday, saw the sun set on the 
Mediterranean, and then considered I had ''done" Genoa, 
and prepared to depart. Then adieu to the Genoese, They 
will promenade up and down their narrow, hilly streets, 
and gaze on their massive palaces to the end of time, and 
think of the past glory of their Doges ; the women will 
wear their graceful scarf and flowing head-dress, and things 
will go on each day as heretofore with the pleasant delusion 
of. an earth-life. We are beginning to experience the usual 
annoyances of traveling in Italy. Our passports have to be 
vised by the Tuscan Minister, whose fee is two francs ; also 
by our own Consul resident, whose charge is five francs 
and twenty-eight centimes; then by the Genoese police, 
who charge four francs — all before we can leave. It is 
doubted by many Americans with whom I have conversed, 
whether our Consuls at the various places have any right 
to charge for their visa, which, as in the other cases, consists 
in simply writing their names. I think the government at 
home gives them the right ; but surely the law ought to be 
altered, and travelers not obliged to pay this rather shabby 
tax. If the visa is rendered necessary by the police regu- 
lations of foreign governments, it ought to be gratis, and 
our government should be above such a petty method of 
raising revenue as is resorted to by these monarchies. The 
production of our passport is necessary even to get a ticket 
for passage on the steamer to Leghorn. It is given up to 
the authorities, to be reclaimed in person at the place of 
destination. But at length, all ordinances complied with 
and paid for, we leave our hotel (Hotel di I'ltalie, formerly 
a palace,) and are on board the Italian steamer, "Ercole," 
on the Mediterranean. The sea is smooth, and the high 
hills inclosing the bay of Genoa, on which the city sits, 
pass away like a spectacle. We continue close along the 



THE AMERICANS GET IT. 357 

western shore of Italy — its uneven surface rising into hills 
and mountains, or sinking into plains, all along the way. 
Many English and some Americans are on board. A party 
of the former, unaware of the presence of any of the latter, 
indulge in rather a free conversation, at the dinner-table, 
respecting our countrymen — being ttie first English we 
have heard spoken for a long time, except by ourselves. 
The English party consisted of an old and rather well-bred- 
looking lady, a young and rather pretty just-from-boarding- 
school-looking lady, and a middle aged, ugly woman, and a 
sharp-featured, whiskered, pale, dissipated Russian, who de- 
clared the Americans are great as a nation, collectively, but 
disagreeable individually — treacherous, ready to fight in a 
moment, like tigers — would never apologize for any thing — 
that they spend more money on the Continent than any 
other people, but are disliked everywhere, and are very ill- 
mannered. After this delectable exposition, the old lady 
declared the Americans are so vulgar — had so much pride 
of wealth — always speaking of how much they had made, 
and how they made it — and that they spend money merely 
on account of their vanity, and with the view of attracting 
notice — that their vanity is insufferable ; they have a saying 
that ''England beats the world, and ihey beat England." 
The young lady declared, several times, that she hated the 
Americans intejisely^ individually and collectively, etc., etc. 
Lying on a sofa, sea-sick, I felt no inclination to resent, ex- 
cept by contempt, these ebullitions of envy on the part of 
the English at our unparalleled success as a nation. The 
only real friends we have in Europe are the lower class 
Irish, and the middle class French — the former from in- 
terest, the latter from sympathy. The real American, so 
far from being vain, is generally modest, quiet, somewhat 
diffident — not very easy, not very learned — but a sensible, 
discreet, well-read sort of gentleman. Impulsive boys, half- 
grown, half-educated, and verbally insolent, ignorant of their 



858 TUSCANY 

own country, and still more ignorant of others — those wlio 
have suddenly made fortunes by trade and commerce— who 
think a voyage to Europe will cover a multitude of defects 
in their early training — who go there in ignorance, and re- 
turn from it in disgust — these are not the proper samples 
from which to form an opinion of Americans. These boast 
and swell and swagger, and seek to supply the absence of 
quiet, gentlemanly appreciation of things, foreign as well as 
domestic, by an intrusive reference to things at home — by 
dissatisfaction and transparent assumption, and seek in their 
indolence an apology for their ignorance. In Germany we 
are respected and feared. It is thought we are disturbers of 
governments; but they treat us with remote politeness, and 
cool and slightly contemptuous forbearance. They appear to 
presume you regard them with vast contempt ; bufe if you 
show by your manner, or some compliment to themselves or 
their country, that you do not, no people can be more assid- 
uous or polite. A republic seems identified, in their minds, 
with anarchy, assassinations, general disorder, and con- 
spiracy. It has been remarked that, during the troubles of 
1848, nearly all Americans in Europe at that time were in 
favor of monarchy, from a conviction that it is best suited to 
the people here. 

But we arrived at Leghorn, after some eight hours' sea 
passage. We were not permitted to land, however, till 
after ten o'clock in the morning. We must here inquire 
for our passports, given at Genoa. We find them at the 
police office. We are now charged ninety cents each, for 
the police visa ; next our luggage is examined. We are 
then permitted to perambulate the uninteresting, flourish- 
ing, well-built commercial city of Leghorn, in the Duchy 
of Tuscany — though this town is held by the Austrians, 
(probably in compliance with the wishes of the Grand Duke 
of Tuscany, who is a near relative to the Emperor of Aus- 
tria,) to keep the people under, as this being a freeport, as 



PISA. 359 

well as Genoa; Trieste and Venice, the people are somewhat 
tinctured with revolutionary opinions, imbibed in their 
commercial intercourse with English and Americans. The 
inelegant name, Leghorn, is in the softer Italian, Livorno. 
Its situation is low, but it affords fine views of the Mediter- 
ranean, and of a vast rocky isle, Gorgona, out on its bosom. 
Its population is eighty thousand, of whom seven thousand 
are Jews. All species of religions are tolerated. There 
are many ships here — some from our own country ; docks, 
canals, etc., but nothing to detain a traveler. So we take 
the afternoon train to Pisa, having in view, right and left, 
picturesque points of the Apennines, swamps, lakes, and 
cultivated lands; pine forests also, and occasionally views 
of the sea. Pisa is but a few miles. We reach it in the 
soft light of an Italian afternoon, and promenade along the 
ancient Arno, a beautiful stream, falling into the Mediter- 
ranean near Pisa. There are palaces and fine massive 
houses, some gray, old, and ghostly, on each bank of it, as 
it flows tbrough the city. Our guide conducts us to the 
one square, so rich in a view scarcely paralleled in Europe. 
The campanile, or Bell Tower; the celebrated Leaning 
Tower of Pisa ; the noble Cathedral ; the Baptistery ; the 
Campo Santo, or burial-place — all on one square, and in the 
distance the heights of the Apennines. Italy is the wonder 
of all countries for churches. The Leaning Tower is a 
very remarkably beautiful-looking object. The height is 
one hundred and seventy-eight feet. It is fifty-three feet in 
diameter, and an ascent of three hundred and thirty steps, 
by a gentle inclined plane round the outside, in ascending 
galleries of pillars, carries one to the top. It leans thirteen 
feet from the perpendicular; so much so that one would 
think it would fall. Its centre of gravity is, however, 
within the base. It has stood thus for six hundred or more 
years. There are eight stories. The inclination, is thought, 
without good reason, however to have arisen from defect 



;^oo PISA. 

Id the foundation. Its inclination enhances tlie order and 
regularity of the other buildings around it. There are 
seven bells at the top, of remarkable sonorousness. 

The great Cathedral is immediately adjoining, and is 
truly splendid outside and in. It is most rich in paintings. 
It is, as usual, cruciform. There are four aisles. There are 
twenty-four Corinthian columns, twelve on each side of the 
central aisle, over two feet in diameter, each shaft a single 
block, and thirty feet high, capital and base included. 
From the top of these other arches spring other columns, 
more numerous, and also smaller. It is of vast size, and 
highly adorned with carvings in silver, and gold, and wood. 
There are many relics of departed saints, some admirable 
frescoes, and the effect of looking down the great aisle 
along the avenue of columns, paintings, etc., is exceedingly 
impressive. Near it is the Baptisterium, a large building 
like a church, about seven hundred years old. It is one 
hundred feet in diameter within the walls, which are six or 
eight feet thick. The total height is one hundred and 
seventy-nine feet. There is a large marble font near the 
centre, used, it is said, formerly, when baptisms were per- 
formed by immersion. It has magnificently carved bronze 
doors, paintings, frescoes, and a pulpit or reading desk of 
most ingenious work. It is six-sided, and rests on nine 
pillars ; has columns, some of Parian marble, one of Sicilian 
jasper. There are splendid bas-reliefs on it. But the 
Campo Santo, or burying-place, is one of the most remark- 
able places of the kind in Italy. It consists of an immense 
oblong building, enclosing an open court. You walk 
around the cloisters, or covered arches, which are partly 
protected from the weather. The open court consists of 
earth brought from Jerusalem in eighty-three vessels. In 
the cloisters are many time-worn Greek and Roman sarco- 
phagi, or stone coffins ; marble baths, thousands of years 
old ; many tomb slabs ; many fresco paintings, and espe- 



FLOREKCE. 361 

cially one representing hell and the last judgment, horrid 
beyond all description — serpents twisting around wretched 
mortals, whose faces utter out their pain and agony. 
The frescoes here are some five hundred years old, and are 
greatly injured by time and neglect. The '^ Triumph of 
Death" is also a very awful painting. Part of it represents 
three kings hunting in a forest, who were conducted to 
three open tombs, where they beheld three ghastly bodies in 
various stages of decay, which, with strange voices, warned 
them to repentance. The horror of a soul on finding itself 
in the grasp of a demon is terribly portrayed. Angels and 
demons are bearing oft* souls to bliss or hell. The paint- 
ings here are very numerons. It has many works by 
Giotto. The study of them is somewhat unsatisfactory, 
owing to their aged and faded appearance. The tomb 
pavement is much worn by the feet of generations. There 
are more than three hundred pieces of ancient sculpture 
here, many of them Roman, and some supposed to be Car- 
thaginian. Pisa, except along the Arno, has a very de- 
serted appearance. The ruined gardens of old, extinct con- 
vents, fill p^rt of the space inside the walls. Nothing is 
really bright here but the sun and the river. The popula- 
tion is about twenty-three thousand. 

But we are now in Florence, the capital of the Dukedom 
of Tuscany. My room overlooks the Arno, and in front is 
an ancient stone bridge of Roman or Etruscan origin. We 
have been here for some days. I have entered the great 
marble Cathedral of black and white marble in alternate 
layers, majestic in its age; the Campanile, with its carv- 
ings and its ingenious works of art and taste ; and I have 
stood in the tapestried halls of the Medici, rich with the 
undying legacies of genius, for which Florence is so re- 
markable. We left Pisa Tuesday evening last, and passed 
rapidly by railway over one of the finest and most beauti- 
fully cultivated regions I have ever seen anywhere — all 

2 F 



362 FLOEENCE. 

like a garden ordered by taste and controlled by industry. 
Numerous villages are all along the route in this most fer- 
tile vale of the Apennines, this delicious Yale of the Arno. 
Arriving at Florence, baggage again searched, passports 
demanded ; and if you sojourn only three days you pay a 
fee of eight pauls, or near ninety cents, for a permission to 
sojourn. If you neglect to take out such permission within 
three days, you pay twelve pauls. The object of these re- 
gulations seems to be to deter foreigners from entering 
these territories, or to raise a revenue from them, if they do. 
The weather here is abundantly pleasant, sunshine every 
day, and a temperature as agreeable as any I have known 
anywhere. The first day of our stay here I strolled about 
the city, walked to the piazza of the Cathedral and Cam- 
panile, but did not enter. It was too grand to take at once 
and suddenly. Much of the interest of Florence arises from 
its palaces, constructed by the first architects of the ancient 
ages, many of the palaces being in the Tuscan or Etruscan 
style, heavy, rustic, rough basements of large stone, and 
gradually rising in lightness and imagery as they ascend. 
Many of the squares are very highly ornamented with an- 
tique statues. I visited, the second day of my stay here, 
the celebrated Florentine Gallery of Paintings, reckoned 
among the finest in the world. It is in a vast royal palace, 
and contains also very many antique busts of Roman em- 
perors, sculptured works by Michael Angelo, as well as 
paintings by this great master; and also works of many 
others — those of Raphael, Titian, Leonardo da Vinci, Ru- 
bens — and the whole is avast mine of genius of the highest 
order. I saw many of my countrymen here, and also some 
of our fair countrywomen. One of the latter I overheard 
remarking on some fine paintings, " Is not them funny ?" 
By her side, however, was her companion, whose subdued 
attention and personal beauty would more than apologize 
for the remarks of her companion. I saw here the original 



FLOEENCE. 863 

antique of the celebrated statue of the Yenus de Medici. 
These antique statues have a breadth and power of ex- 
pression which modern ones do not have. Those of the 
Eoman emperors indicate their character at once. Many 
of them are very much mutilated. There are also many 
Greek and Eoman sarcophagi, or stone cof&ns, carved out- 
side with numerous figures in bas relief, looking as they 
had been interred for a thousand years. This gallery is 
called the Uffizi Gallery, and, as a whole, supposed to be 
the richest in the world. During the day I also visited the 
Boboli Gardens, adjoining the Pitti Palace, the residence of 
the grand duke. These are among the finest I have seen — 
the hilly ground admitting the display of much taste. There 
are very many fine statues ; some by Michael Angelo ; 
long, wall-like avenues of evergreen trees, fountains, flowers 
now in bloom. 'Tis a place of entire delight. In it is a 
house, which, itself very antiquated, seems to have a collec- 
tion of the dilapidated and mutilated statues, tombs, etc., of 
all ages past. 'Tis a singular but valuable collection, and 
their value is their age. Ah ! oblivion must come upon all 
life and living, and all efforts of life ! The mind that 
designed and the hand that executed the work must and 
will be forgotten. Why should the work remain to mock 
him ? 

But here is San Lorenzo, the wide place or piazza before 
that church. How very old this place appears. Here are 
all sorts of small vendors and vending. Old clothes, dam- 
aged chairs, furniture, pieces of iron, hinges, nails — all 
things once used, now useless — sold by ancient, dreary, 
weary-looking men, whose eyes nothing can brighten but a 
paul. Pieces of iron bedsteads, every thing that want and 
misery could collect are here, exposed for sale, to eke out 
a poor existence ; while the uneven, old, brick front of the 
church is on one side, with its interior of crosses, Virgin 
Mary scenes, its candles, its altar works, its side chapels, its 



9 

364 FLORENCE. 

carved sarcophagi, with bones of saints in them, its flat 
tombs on the floor, its effigies in marble of dead saints. 
'Tis a strange world, seething and working on outside and 
in. But a paul can set every thing in motion, out and in. 
Even the next world is under its influence, and religion and 
salvation are here bought and sold. 

Here is San Miniato, upon the hill outside the gates of 
the city. You ascend a long, paved way, with an olive 
orchard on your left; on your right is a row of cypresses 
and crosses, and the whole way beset with beggars. On the 
summit is an old church, with its pavement of graves, 
shaded by a grove of cypresses. Inside, you have the 
monks chanting, in the large, empty, old-pictured church, 
the vesper service — for the Catholic monks perform religion 
whether any one is there or not. But what a view of fair 
Florence, with its background of the Apennines, studded 
with terraced villas — the vale of the Arno, level, fertile, 
and lovely — the Tower of Palazzo Yecchio, up which the 
sunset is slowly creeping — the Cathedral, cased in black 
and white marble, with its domes and spires. 'Tis beautiful ! 
Alongside of this church is a still older, closed-up church, 
monastery or convent, surrounded by an ivy-grown, old, 
fortification-like wall. A pretty girl comes with the keys and 
unlocks the ancient doors, and you enter the disused, old, 
cemetery of a church, with its ruined, fine frescoes, its marble- 
tessellated floor, its crypt, descending which you find the 
tomb of the patron saint, and you see around you columns, 
beautiful, fluted, pictured, of various marbles, stolen from 
still much older Eoman edifices, to build this church with, 
which is itself a thousand years old. Here the monks 
chimed and sung, and the organ rang, and the kneelers 
worshiped, and the manufactory of devotion went on ; but 
it is all gone now. Back of the altar, through thin plates 
of semi-transparent, variegated marbles, comes sad, stained 
light, melting into these old mosaics and fresco paintings, 



FLOEENOE. 8(f5 

where the immortality of the painter's art is dying — there 
being more real art in this old, disused church; outside the 
city on a hill, than in all the churches in America. And 
here is a side chapel, the walls and ceilings covered with 
legendary frescoes. In another chapel, most richly and 
beautifully ornamented, is a single effigy, in marble, over 
a tomb. 'Tis death, truly rendered by genius ; the repose, 
the pallor, the dread, are all there without the decay. But 
you pay the pretty, young Italian girl your paul — gaze on 
the enchanting scene in the garment of sunset, look on the 
olive orchards of the hilly, villaged scene, and leave San 
Miniato to journey with you down into longer time. 

To-day, Dec. 18, is truly a beautiful day. The clear, 
pleasant, slightly-cool weather of this Italian climate, is 
very agreeable. I visited Mr. Powers' studio. He w^as 
not in it just then. You feel almost as if you were in 
America here. The statue of Daniel Webster, larger than 
life, in plaster, meets you ; Franklin also (the bust). Sparks, 
and many other Americans. The model for the Greek 
Slave, that of Eve, and many other beautiful designs, in 
progress or finished, are to be seen. Many of these are 
most beautiful in expression and execution, though lacking 
in antique boldness and forcefulness of expression. But I 
spent some hours to-day in the Pitti, or in the rooms in 
which are its splendid paintings. The Grrand Duke of Tus- 
cany lives in the palace, and it is connected by a covered 
way which extends across the river, on one of the bridges, 
and is supported in other places by arcades, wdth the Uffizi 
Palace, so that the Grand Duke could pass from one to the 
other, invisibly, and without descending to the streets. 
This palace is of great size, and is built in that richly-rough, 
elegant-ugly manner of the Tuscan style of architecture. 
The paintings are among the best in the world — nearly six 
hundred— and none are bad. There are Madonnas by 
Raphael, and Holy Families ; pictures by Titian, Perugino, 

2 f2 



3^66 FLOEENCE. 

Tintoretto, and Rubens, are very numerous. The rooms 
are some dozen or more, and have splendid furniture — the 
richest and most curious, elaborate, and ingenious mosaic 
tables in the world, elegant chairs, sofas, etc. There are 
some bronze statues, also ; one of Cain and Abel, remarka- 
ble for Cain's expression. But the intellect in the paintings 
reigns supreme. Raphael's Madonna della Seggiola, one of 
the most celebrated paintings in the world, is here — said to 
be the sweetest of all of the one hundred and twenty 
Madonnas he painted. I like that at Dresden better, as 
having a deeper and more ennobling expression. The ex- 
pression here is most beautifully maternal, however, in this, 
the sitting Madonna. Michael Angelo's " Three Fates " is 
here — a small but mighty picture. The great, large-hearted, 
and great man painter, Rubens, has some fine ones. There 
is a Magdalene by Titian, one of the most lovely creations 
imaginable. The Catholic conception of the Magdalene is 
a very different one from the Protestant idea. She was a 
lovely sinner, a beautiful repentant, returning remorseful, 
affectionate and lovable, being one who sinned not wholly 
through weakness, but in whom earth and heaven struggled, 
and heaven at length surmounted, though earth lingered. 
Judith, with the "head of Holofernes," by Christafori 
Allori, is very fine. There are catalogues in each room, in 
French and Italian, and guides or guards, domestics of the 
Grand Duke, who walk up and down. The public are ad- 
mitted on all, except fast days, free of charge. Strangers 
from all climes are constantly promenading in it. The 
ceilings of these lofty halls are finely painted in fresco. 

To-day, Saturday, Dec. 19, I took a guide and visited 
several places — the house of Michael Angelo, whose family 
name was Buonaraotti ; it is still kept by his descendants as 
he left it, after the lapse of hundreds of years. He was 
born near Florence, in 1475 — lived more than eighty years. 
The family yet exists. His talents were of the most diversi- 



FLOEENCE. 367 

fied order, and great in each — unsurpassed as a painter, 
sculptor, and architect. His works are all marked by 
strength, and he is, perhaps, on the whole, the most talented 
man Italy ever produced. From this I went to the magnifi- 
cent church, Santissima Annunziata, which is most splendid 
in its chapels of marble, its paintings, and its altars of 
silver, and its ceiling, which glow in gilt and gold. Many of 
the pictures and frescoes are legends about the saints. Some 
are by Andrea del Sarto, really a great painter, and he is 
buried here. Some are by Perugino, the master of Raphael. 
There is a fresco of the Virgin, which has miraculous pow- 
ers, and is said to have been painted by angels ; this is 
shown only on rare occasions. 

Then again to the church of San Lorenzo, in a chapel con- 
nected to which are the celebrated tombs of the great Medici 
family, now extinct, or "finished," as the guide says. It is 
a very large rotunda — walls covered with the richest marbles 
— Florentine mosaic, composed of jasper, lapis lazuli, agate, 
chalcedony. There are rich fresco paintings on the ceiling. 
Connected to this is what is called the chapel of Michael 
Angelo, containing his splendid statues of some members 
of the Medici family, and some allegoric figures, intended 
to represent Morning and Evening, and Day and Night. 
Then there is an unfinished group in marble, of the Virgin 
and Child, all by Michael Angelo, and all masterly. The 
expression of thought on the face of one of the figures is 
remarkable ; and afiection on the face of Mary is equally 
so. This is sculpture, real and true ; and it is one of the 
most interesting places in Florence. The statues of Michael 
Angelo are incomparable. I entered next the studio of an 
Italian sculptor, saw many most beautiful creations in 
marble, fine, smooth, and lovely, like Powers', but lacking 
the power of Michael Angelo, who must have had something 
Roman in him. 

Next, I entered the Academy of Fine Arts. Here is a 



368 FLORENCE. 

very curious collection of very old paintings, taken out of 
various suppressed churches and convents. Some are in 
tlie Byzantine style, and date in periods before the revival 
of painting in Italy, going back six hundred years. There 
are many by Cincinnato and Giotto, very old and pre-Rapba- 
elite masters ; the former was born at Florence, A. D. 1240 
— died near 1302 ; the latter, born 1276 — died, 1336. There 
are some on wood, by Fra Angelico da Fiesole, who died 
A. D. 1455 — colors yet bright. Then I visited the Egyptian 
Museum. I saw here a Scythian war chariot, of wood, 
with ornaments of ivory, thirty-four hundred years old, and 
Egyptian tombs much older — seeds of wheat and other 
kinds of grain found in coffins, and vastly ancient, together 
with some of the stalks which grew from the seeds. Here, 
also, I saw Raphael's celebrated fresco — the Last Supper — 
recently discovered, being unknown for many ages, and now 
it is doubted as to its being his. I gazed at it long and in- 
tently. It is awfully impressive. The faces are almost 
alive, and the feeling within them glows in the cold mate- 
rials. It is probable it is Raphael's, though no single head 
in it strikes me as being within a great distance so good as 
in Leonardo da Yinci's painting. 

Some days have passed. I have revisited the Pitti Palace 
to gaze at the great creations of the hand of genius. 
Raphael's Madonnas, and some paintings by Da Vinci, seem 
to me particularly remarkable, and one who has Dot seen 
them can have no idea how far painting can go, and how 
nearly it can imitate the real. In one of the rooms is a 
table of Florentine mosaic, which is said to have cost nearly 
two hundred thousand dollars. There are some rare col- 
umns of black Egyptian porphyry. 

Florence has many ancient, strange, but grand-looking 
palaces — the Palazza Yecchio, or Old Palace, which has 
great battlements, and a lofty tower rising out of one side 
of the Palace. I ascended this tower, and had a sublime 



FLORENCE. 369 

view — the Apennines around, with old monasteries, 
churches, convents — things of past years; the Arno, flowing 
through the middle of the town, with its three or four stone 
bridges, having large abutments ; the walls of the city, also, 
with lofty gates and fortresses. Below Florence, on the 
Arno, is a grand promenade and drive, very much fre- 
quented, called the Cascino. It is somewhat like Bois de 
Boulogne, near Paris. There are lofty, shady trees, ave- 
nues, flowerS; and the display of carriages, pedestrians, 
equestrians, in the evening, is very animating. There are, 
at present, many English and Americans here. It is the 
season in Florence, or indeed in all Italy. You meet, in 
this pleasant promenade, or drive, many beautiful ladies, 
whose features, dress, manner, indicate them to belong to 
the English higher aristocracy. The English are not much 
liked — are thought proud ; the French too blustering. The 
Americans, I think, are generally popular in Florence; 
caused, probably, by so many and able sculptors, as Powers 
and others, residing here. The hotel in which we stay is 
called Hotel de New York. There are many Americans 
here. It is well kept, in French style. It was formerly a 
palace. Florence has about one hundred and twenty 
thousand inhabitants. Its beautiful situation in the vale of 
the Arno, with the hills and Apennines, olive and vine-clad, 
has always been admired. 

But San Marco, another old church in this city, with its 
ancient paintings on wood, by Fra Angelico, a Catholic 
monk of this city, of more than five hundred years ago, 
who beguiled the sterner and more serious calling of a 
priest with the gentle cultivation of his talent as a painter. 
He was born, 1387 — died, 1455. Not useless were these 
old convents. Many valuable works were preserved in 
them, and they were the habitations of the learning and 
learned and gifted men of these dark ages. The paintings 
or frescoes here are very fine and delicate ; also expressive, 
24 



370 FLOKENCE. 

without mucli strengtli or variety. Santa Maria Novella is 
a very interesting old chnrcli. There are here old and 
ghastly paintings of dim, drear, and horrid hells — of Virgins 
of surpassing sweetness and beauty. This church is of 
great size, three hundred and twenty-two feet long, and two 
hundred and three feet wide across the transepts. There 
are stained and painted glass windows here, looking like 
imprisoned rainbows. Some of the old frescoes are nearly 
gone, having faded. 

I have revisited San Lorenzo again, to look at Michael 
Angelo's statuary. One, the representation of the great 
Medici, is an impersonation of abstract thought — soul, as it 
were, coming out of marble — mind exhaling from cold clay. 
You can almost feel a human sympathy with the statues of 
Morning and Evening, and Day and Night, and recognize 
them as fellow beings who could love and hate, sorrow and 
suffer too. 

The Cathedral of Florence, or Santa Maria del Fiore, 1 
have been in many times. It is one of the most noted 
churches in Italy. The dome is regarded as a wonder. It 
served as the model of that of St. Peter's at Eome. Imme- 
diately below it is the high altar. The works are entirely 
cased with marble on the outside. Its length is four 
hundred and fifty-four feet ; height, from the pavement to 
the summit of the cross, three hundred and eighty-seven 
feet ; the transept is three hundred and thirty-four feet long ; 
the height of the nave, one hundred and fifty-three feet. 
The nave has four grand arches. The stained glass of the 
windows is most beautiful. Near it is the campanile, which 
I ascended; its height is two hundred and seventy-five 
feet. It is a square tower of four stories ; its architecture, 
Italian Gothic. The staircase consists of four hundred and 
fourteen steps. Giotto was the principal architect of this, 
as well as the Cathedral — except the dome of the latter, 
which was by Brunelleschi ; they are both buried in the 



FLORENCE. 371 

Cathedral they built. There are numerous statues on both 
of them. The Baptistery is on the same piazza. It is a 
remarkable building. All the christenings in the city are 
performed within it. The number is said to be forty-two 
hundred per annum. The bronze doors of this edifice are 
wonderful, consisting of bas-reliefs, representing many 
scenes in Scripture history. The form of the Baptistery is 
an octagon, supporting a dome. The outer wall is of black 
and white marble. Inside are sixteen splendid Corinthian 
columns of gray granite. The cupola is covered with 
mosaics, and the pavement is a splendid mosaic of black 
and white marble, of complicated and beautiful patterns. 
There is a tomb of a Pope here — John XXIII. The view 
of these three marble buildings, all in the same square — 
their black and white marble fagades — the imposing dome 
of the Cathedral — the elegant work of the campanile — the 
statues and columns and historical associations of the Bap- 
tistery, render this an interesting place for thought ; and it 
is not to be wondered that Dante — the place is still shown — 
used to have his seat moved here, and sat down for hours, 
musing in poetry on the beauty of the scene. Yet the 
slavery of Catholicism is dreadful ! How it trenches on this 
world and the next too ! The Virgin Mary, a sort of lustful, 
voluptuous love for whom, seems to have come into the 
mind and heart of the priests as a consequence and compen- 
sation of their enforced celibacy, and seems to be the prin- 
cipal object of adoration. The common prayers of the 
people are addressed to her as a sort of sub-mediator, one 
that- has more pity than Christ. It is common to see in very 
many of the churches such inscriptions as ''To the God- 
bearing Virgin," and " Mother of God, pray for us." Origin- 
ally, the idea of the Virgin was a beautiful one, and is so in 
reality. She is thought to have been perfectly sinless, pure 
as Christ, pitying, never to have gotten old, and finally, to 
have made an ascension to heaven, where many of the pic- 



3f2 FLORENCE. 

tures represeDt her as creating a vast sensation, and enliven- 
ing the scene. She is always perfectly beautiful, often in 
sorrow for her son — " the Mater Dolorosa." It is a cardinal 
item that she never became a mother but once, contrary to 
some direct intimations of Scripture, if words are to be 
taken in their ordinary sense. 

But here is Santa Croce, where are the tombs of the 
greatest men produced by Italy. It is a very large and 
magnificent building; there are fine, circular windows, 
with stained glass ; there are pavements of tombs ; there is 
the monument to Dante, the great poet, though his remains 
do not rest here ; then there is the monument to Galileo ; 
then that of the great Michael Angelo Buonarotti, who rests 
here, in a splendid monument ; there are many others, also, 
frescoes of great age, relics, and miracle-working paintings. 
But 'tis Christmas Eve, and we assemble in the dim-lighted, 
ancient, immense Cathedral, with its high columns, its varie- 
gated marble floors, its slabs of tombs, its large circlets of 
marble, in each of which is conspicuous, the word ^' Ora ! 
Ora! Ora!" "Pray! Pray! Pray!" and the preparatory 
Mass is going on; there are many people here, music, 
chanting. The Archbishop, a young-looking man, comes 
in, in state : boys in white vests, holding massive candle- 
sticks—some bearing his train. There are processions of 
•priests in uniform. 'Tis a splendid sight. But in the 
Santissima Annunziata is the regular midnight Mass — one 
.of the most solemn ceremonies of the church. The ceiling 
•of the church is a most magnificent gilding — the arches, in 
which are the side chapels, are hung with gorgeous crimson 
curtains. Some of the altars glow in silver workmanship, 
some in gold. The long wax candles, the ponderous candle- 
sticks carried about, the incense, the grand organ, resound- 
ing its mighty^ complaining, the singing of the Mass, some- 
times joyous as the song of the heavenly host heard on the 
plains of Bethlehem, then sad as the darkness that covered 



FLORENCE. 373 

the land when " He died " — all the glory and gorgeousness 
of the great superstition are going on here. On Christmas 
day, Catholicism is in its glory, though the feast of the Virgin 
is the greatest of all — being more grandly celebrated than 
that of the Son — for denude Catholicism of its Virgin, and 
it falls. All Florence is walking up and down the Arno, 
and across its bridges, some of which are streets of jewelers' 
shops. Outside the gate, near the Arno, on the Cascino, 
comprising beautiful walks, drives, groves, avenues of trees, 
hedges, flowers — what a scene, and what a place to congre- 
gate and enjoy the pleasant, Italian, moonlit evenings and 
twilights. Fine English carriages, servants in livery, the 
Grand Duke of Tuscany himself, bowing to the heads un- 
covered as he passes, his carriage drawn by four elegant 
horses, beautiful ladies, the stately, gentle beauty of En- 
gland, the less confident, but fuller and richer beauty of 
America, the darker, lither, and more intense and spiritual 
appearance of the longer-descended Italians, all these are 
here in perfection and enjoyment. Near this, on a high 
hill, to which you ascend by a narrow lane^ between walls, 
is an ancient, green, dingy, dull, square building — a mon- 
astery — looking cheerless as if it had to do with death, and 
had none of the delights of life. Its church has a banquette 
of grave-stones. You read the simple, plaintive epitaphs. 
One has on it, in Italian, ''Imploring eternal peace." One, 
on a singer, is rather profane, ''She sang to the Grand Duke 
of Tuscany — she now sings to the angels in heaven." They 
show you the monastery, the numerous paintings — one 
startlingly good, but old and injured, on the right side of 
the entrance — all about the Saviour and his sufferings, or 
the Madonna. Then you go into the apartments of the 
monks ; you see the cheerless missals, the more important 
words printed with red ink, filled with disjointed extracts 
from the Scriptures — such as are calculated to make good 
Catholics. The great work of Protestantism was simply to 

2g 



874 FLORENCE. 

give the whole Bible to the whole world. Out of parts of 
it, any thing may be made. All about here is clean, poor, 
grave, emasculated. They show you the vaults where the 
monks are buried, beneath the places where they spent their 
joyless life ; there is a skull lying on a table, a hearse in 
the corner. On one corner of the edifice, outside, you see, 
written in Italian, an anathema pronounced by Pope Gre- 
gory, importing that "whosoever shall injure or burn this 
monastery, shall have no resurrection, except to damnation, 
and shall have the part of Judas." The monks have sur- 
rounded the hill on which the house stands with olive 
orchards, fruit trees, and pleasant grounds, planted with 
evergreen trees ; and on the top of a high hill, near, is a 
circular grove of cypresses. The view is one of most rare 
beauty — Florence, the high towers of Palazzo Yecchio, the 
campanile and cathedral, the chapel of the Medici, and all 
around the city are lovely villas studding the scene, and 
beyond are the Apennines, with their white villas, convent 
walls, church towers, whose bells, high up in the air, send 
out their mingling peals in honor of Christmas ; while in 
the vale of the Arno are fields, groves, and olive orchards, 
and various combinations of the lovely. We have now 
spent nearly two weeks in -Florence. Of late, the weather 
has not realized the romance of an Italian climate, being 
foggy — intensely so along the Arno. Yet the gay promena- 
ders along the river still continue. ' 

On Sundays I attended the Episcopal Church, the only 
English service generally in Europe. An enforced con- 
tribution was made at the door previous to your being 
allowed to enter. You pay about twenty-five cents, or 
nearly two pauls, for a preach, as formally as if you were 
going to see a spectacle. There is, however, a free, elevated 
gallery in the church. Many English, as well as Ameri- 
cans, who reside permanently in Florence, allured by the 
cheapness of house rent and provisions, and its treasures of 



PIESOLE. 875 

art, attend this service. To-day, Monday, December 28tli, 
tlie sun of Italy is out in all its glory over the old scenes 
of mountains, towers, domes and steeples. The late fogs are 
gone, and summer almost reigns in the sky. Back of 
Florence are the heights of the Apennines, picturesque and 
Italian valleys. We leave the city by the Porta Gralla; 
then, passing along a torrent, we begin the ascent. The 
road is smooth and broad, and is inclosed by high walls. 
It winds about as it ascends, and part of it is bordered with 
cypress trees, olive orchards, and villas, churches and con- 
vents. Numerous terraced walls are seen on each side, ren- 
dering level small portions of ground. The view of Flor- 
ence becomes more fine as we ascend. We at length reach 
the ancient Etruscan town of Fiesole, on the top of the 
hill, one thousand feet above Florence. We go around 
in the rear of the church, and descending through vil- 
las on the hill-side, come to the Etruscan walls of the 
city, built anterior to the time of the Eomans. They are 
very much fallen down, almost imbedded in earth, ivy- 
grown, built of massive stones without mortar, and would 
seem to threaten defiance to centuries. They may be traced 
for one or two miles, and are probably three thousand years 
old. Eeturning, we enter the church in the town, where 
we find the choir of the priests, with many boys, singing 
ancient chants. In the crypt is a stone sarcophagus, with 
" religieuse" written on it, and by its side is an account of 
the miracles it has performed. The church has many paint- 
ings, frescoes and tombs. On another part of the hill, 
higher up, is the Franciscan Convent, with the church 
adjoining. The ladies of our party are permitted to enter 
the church, but the monk who conducts us requests them, 
with almost horror in his face, not to enter the monastery. 
The building consists of long rows of cells, separated by 
narrow halls. The doors of each cell have small pictures 
representing some scene in which the Virgin Mary is 



376 THE UFFIZI GALLERY. 

generally prominent. Every part of tlie building is clean. 
Every thing is of stone ; but the general effect is gloomy 
and dreary. We entered one of the cells. " Miserabile !" 
exclaimed the guide, meaning that it was very poor, which 
it was indeed — a bed of coarse and hard materials, one or 
two old chairs; no comfort, nothing but hard, cold, mere 
living. Back of the convent is an old court-yard, with 
numerous melancholy cypress trees, much green grass, also 
paved sloping walks; and from this old place extends a 
view of extraordinary loveliness, peculiarly Italian. Here 
then dwell these mentally emasculated beings — pass their 
poor lives in voluntary penance and poverty. Yet after all 
they may be as happy and as virtuous as any other class 
of men. Those who live thus abstemiously must have few 
or no unhallowed desires. They become enervated and 
unmanly. Catholicism is much harder than Protestantism. 
In over-peopled countries monkery is an element of poli- 
tical economy. Many of these establishments are well en- 
dowed, having extensive and finely cultivated farms, which 
have been given them by the remorse of wicked, dying 
great men, who repented by founding a monastery, condi- 
tioned on mass being said daily for the repose of their souls, 
to have an easy passage through Purgatory: the idea of 
this latter place being an admirable speculation, which has 
been worth millions to the church. We now began the 
descent in our carriages along the smooth, beautiful woods, 
lined with walls, over which were pendant flowers, and near 
which were sweet and pleasant villas, nestled in olive 
orchards. Beyond Fiesole is the vale called Vallombrosa. 
But once more to the Uffizi Palace, which is indeed worth 
many visits. In the great court of the Uffizi are numerous 
and splendid statues of the great men of Florence : and she 
has had many of them. Americus Vespucius, who gave 
name to our own country, and who, some have thought, did 
really first see the continent, is represented by one of the 



THE UFFIZI GALLERY. 377 

Btatues; his house is also shown in the city. But one 
ascends an immense staircase, and you are in the celebrated 
Picture and Sculpture Gallery — as a whole, the finest in 
the world. Here first meet you statues in porphyry, and 
-relics of ancient Eoman sculpture — dogs, wolves — exquis- 
itely executed. Then you go through a vast corridor, 
lined with antique busts of the Eoman emperors — Trajan, 
Caligula, etc. — all in their primitive, inherent, truthful, 
Roman ugliness and strongly marked characters. Then 
there are also paintings — some by Raphael, some by Cima- 
bue — sacred scenes, dating from A. D. 1240, six hundred 
and seventeen years old. In the busts you read the lives 
of the Roman emperors. There is Nero, as a child and as 
a man — a cold, sneaking, low-browed, infuriate rascal ; 
Yitellius, beefy, limby and big, like a Britisher — and very 
many others — some much mutilated, having in the long 
course of two thousand years suffered losses of noses, ears, 
arms, some of which, however, are restored; that is, added 
by modern artists. Then there are bas reliefs, by the Tus- 
can artists of the middle ages ; there are Roman marble 
sarcophagi, with their sculptured histories ; there are statues 
by Michael Angelo — and the whole is a glory and a glad- 
ness to look at — such a quiet, half-starting-into-life appear- 
ance have many of them. Some of them look as if they 
would only mahe believe they were not alive. The Yenuses 
are all terribly modest, utterly nude, but with a most vir- 
ginal, alarmed expression. The wealth of statuary here is 
wondrous. They were dug out of the ruins of Rome or 
other cities, and found in villas. One of Cupid and Psyche, 
or Desire and the Soul, is most beautiful. One of Brutus, 
by Michael Angelo — for ancient and middle-age statuary 
are strangely mingled together — is very powerful in strong 
Roman expression, though left unfinished. In one room is 
the finest Florentine mosaic table ever made. It occupied 
twenty-two workmen twenty-five years. 

2 g2 



378 THE UFFIZI GALLEKY. 

But near this is the Hall of Kiobe, with the statue of 
herself turned to stone bj grief, and those of her children, 
all dying around her, smitten by the angry goddess. The 
effect is wonderful — so much agony, and so much history — 
such attitudes and expressions. They are nearly two thou- 
sand years old, and were found in the ruins of a Eoman 
villa. But when you have looked at the statuary you can 
go into the Tribune, which contains the great works of both 
painting and sculpture. Here you see the great statue — 
the world-renowned Yenus de Medici. It is not draped at 
all. Artificial prudery gets some severe trials on going 
through these ancient galleries. Every thing about this 
statue is perfectly beautiful, exquisitely chaste, womanly, 
soft; captivating, thoroughly proportioned, elevated, tender — 
in short, that most beautiful thing on earth, a really beau- 
tiful woman, considered as a work not of o.rt. The waist 
is not at all in shape as in that horrid fashion which some- 
times prevails of compressing it. Her height, if erect, 
would be five feet two inches. She is slightly startled, as 
if suddenly discovered. You would think she would run 
off, but is paralyzed by surprise. It was found near Eome. 
No eye, no art, no external feeling can detect the slightest 
want of conformity to the real and true physical form — 
arms, hands, feet, limbs, head, features, are all exact, thor- 
oughly proportioned ; so that the whole combination pro- 
duces an impression of the beautiful, the tender, the gentle, 
the unprotected. It may be said it requires artistic knowl- 
edge and experience to enable one to be a judge of objects 
of either painting or sculpture. This is a mistake. The 
true judge is simply a man who feels what can please him, 
and recognizes the natural by external emotions, and re- 
ceives the whole effect by an aesthetic principle within. 
The higher the art — the better the painting or the statue — 
the easier it is to judge of it, since it appeals more strongly 
to our common sympathy or human nature. . A painter or 



OFF FOE EOME. 379 

sculptor is but a poor judge; his mind is occupied witli the 
details ; his ideas are mechanical — he is thinking of the tool 
or the brush or the colors, and his mind is not open to the 
full perception of the thing as a whole. The instinctive 
recognition of excellence is the best judge of an object of 
art. In this room are the Apolljon, the Dancing Faun, 
and the Wrestlers, the Slave Whetting his Knife — all ancient, 
except the restoration by Michael Angelo, and all wonder- 
ful. In some there seems a real elasticity and motion from 
head to foot. In this room are also the finest paintings — 
one by Kaphael, of an extraordinarily beautiful woman, a 
portrait; one by Michael Angelo, a Holy Family, which 
phrase means the Virgin and Child ; and then there is the 
Yenus, by Titian, a painting of a perfectly nude woman, 
reckoned the best of all his Yenuses, though the one in the 
Dresden Gallery is nearly as good. Nothing could be finer 
than the feminine, loving, half- tearful, enjoying expression 
of this great work. There are very many other rooms, 
with many splendid creations of art. Medusa's head, by 
Leonardo da Yinci, has this master's acknowledged power. 
'Tis as horrid as an embodied nightmare — the snakes crawl 
away from it. There are paintings, in separate rooms, of 
the different schools of painting — Flemish, Dutch, German, 
Yenitian ; and one room contains portraits, principally by 
themselves, of the most celebrated artists in the world. All 
these are interesting, when one has a " soul to make them 
felt and feeling." 

To-morrow, however, we leave Florence the Beautiful, 
having been here two weeks. The soft moonlight is over 
the Arno, along which have so lately trodden the numer- 
our promenaders. The gaslights, extending for miles down 
the river, disclose the three or four old bridges, and the 
rejoicing waves give back the gaslight; but the moonlight 
hovers on them like a loving spirit. To-day I have visited 
the Imperial Palace, outside the Porta Komana. There is 



380 EOUTE TO ROME. 

an ascent of half a mile to it, lined witli cypresses and larch 
trees, making a very interesting walk — beset, however, with 
beggars. The palace looks well, and the grounds around 
it are well laid out, have statues, bronzes, etc. The wines 
produced around on the hills are the best in Tuscany. 
Agriculture is well understood here, and different localities, 
even near each other, are ascertained to be best for particu- 
lar things. Good wines are not raised in flat or low lands; 
the lower hill-sides are best for the vine, the higher for the 
olive. It is forbidden to train the vine, and laws have been 
passed forbidding its planting on low grounds. The popu- 
lation of the Grand Dukedom of Tuscany is about one 
million eight hundred thousand. The army consists of 
about fourteen thousand men. The support of the Austrian 
occupation of the country is taxed on the people. 

We go by Yetturini to Rome, preferring the land route 
through the centre of Italy, though there is danger from 
brigands. We are a party of three. We hire a driver, 
with a large carriage which would contain six persons 
readily, four inside, two outside, besides the driver. We 
have four good horses. We pay for all, including all neces- 
sary expenses of food, lodging, fires, etc., b}^ the way, 
twenty Napoleons, nearly eighty dollars. The journey will 
occupy five or six days. Our contract is made out accord- 
ing to regular form, and every thing specified. Our driver 
is an Italian, but speaks a little French. But to-day, 
Tuesday, December 29th, we left Florence at seven o'clock, 
having risen early, taken our coffee, which is the grand 
" sine qua non" in Europe. The morning was one of the 
clear, exhilarating mornings of Italy. The postillion 
cracked his whip, we passed out the Porta de San Nicolo, 
where our passports were searched into, but not a single 
hiatus being found, off we went along the vale of the upper 
Arno, saw the citizens at their various speculations of get- 
ting a living, then began to ascend the Apennines, and on 



ROUTE TO ROME. 381 

looking back saw a sea of houses — ^Florence, in its hill-en- 
circled vale, the sun shining on all, the spires mounting 
heavenward, the whole vale of the Arno a loveliness. There 
were villas on the mountain side, though on their tops was 
a sprinkling of snow ; wheat-fields were around us as we 
ascended ; the vine festooned to mulberry trees. Then we 
entered old, dirtj, walled, and ancient villages, crowded 
with ugly, unpleasant, ragged, poor people; the Virgin 
Mary was making " Assumptions " everywhere, in pictures 
on the roadside shrines. This great universal feeling, how- 
ever, is a beautiful one, and probably softens the Italian 
character. There were rivulets, over which were ancient 
stone bridges. At one place we passed, is shown the 
withered body of a man found walled up in the church 
wall, and discovered a few years since. 

At Levane, we stopped and took dejeuner a la fourchette 
in a large, cold, Italian house, without fires — Hotel la Posta 
— then ascended high hills, went through a rough country 
in a state of compulsory fertility, in which we saw many 
beggars and poor-looking people ; then we descended into 
a valley, saw dingy, old, stone houses, which we traveled 
by in the moonlight. We then entered the walls of Arezzo, 
a cold and dingy place. Passports were here required. 
In the hotel, fires were made at our request — the common 
Italians rarely requiring any — many of the houses being 
without chimneys. Wood alone is burnt; this is very 
small in size, consisting of saplings, planted recently to 
furnish wood ; also, dry grape-vines are used to kindle the 
wood with — none of the grand, old, primitive forests of 
America being here. 

We have come fifty miles to-day, through a mournful, 
fallen, yet glorious country. One feels really in Italy on 
these excursions through its old lands and towns. The 
churches are very numerous ; there were Italian villas also, 
and many very fine views, while the pleasant sunshine lay 



382 ROUTE TO ROME. 

on all. Ascending hills, as the carriage then moved 
slowly, I alighted and walked along on the smooth, hard 
road. 

Arezzo is a small, old, interesting place, containing 
about eleven thousand inhabitants. It is the birthplace of 
very many distinguished men — Petrarch, Macsenas, and 
also Michael Angelo was born in its neighborhood. It was 
an Etruscan city, and existed before Rome. It has several 
churches^ with some fine paintings and frescoes. There is 
some Etruscan pottery here, and there are some fossil tusks 
of elephants, regarded by the inhabitants as relics of the 
elephants belonging to Hannibal, whose route to Rome is 
identical with the one we are taking.. When one is in 
Italy, all the roads, however, are said to lead to Rome. 

This morning, Wednesday, Dec. 31st, we rose at five 
o'clock, having given directions to the maitre dliotel to 
awaken us, and have our breakfast ready at six, which con- 
sisted of the usual European first meal — coffee, which was 
good, eggs, and toast. We left Arezzo at six-and-a-half, in 
a lovely moonlit morning, just about dawn. I remained 
out of the carriage, and walked through the gates of the 
city, and ascended to the top of the hill. The morning was 
somewhat cool, and there was some thin ice. On our right, 
as we continued our course, were high hills. We soon 
came to Cortona, one of the most ancient towns in Europe. 
Its walls, or portions of them, are Etruscan, composed of 
immense blocks of uncemented masonry. It is three thou- 
sand years old — having been founded by the Pelasgi. It is 
perched on a high mountain to our left, and looks as if its 
seasons had been all autumns for a thousand years — its long, 
ruined walls and towers seem crumbling. We now entered 
an extensive, beautiful, and fertile plain, in fine cultivation. 
It is well drained — there being ditches separating the young 
rows of mulberries, on which hangs the vine; there were 
olive orchards on the descents to the plain. The peasants 



KOUTE TO EOME. 383 

were gathering the nov/ ripe fruit, which is small and black 
— somewhat larger than a cherry. The mulberries are used 
for the double purpose of supporting the vine and furnish- 
ing leaves on which to support the caterpillar which pro- 
duces the silkworm. This plain has several towns on it, 
and is bounded by mountains. It was formerly a pestilen- 
tial marsh, but has been rendered fertile by an admirable 
svstem of drainao^e. We now came to the scene in which 
Hannibal defeated the Roman army — that battle in which 
so great was the fury of the combatants, that an earthquake 
which happened at the time was unperceived. It occurred 
over twenty -two hundred years ago. The scene is between 
the lovely Italian lake, Thrasimene, and the hills or moun- 
tains toward the east, a portion of which comes down near 
to the lake, separating the large plain from a smaller. Into 
the latter Hannibal decoyed the Eoman Consul, Flaminius, 
and thus he was enclosed by the mountains which sur- 
rounded the smaller plain, and the lake which bounds it on 
the south. Hannibal posted his army on the high ground 
at the further extremity of the smaller plain, and sent his 
horse troops to attack Flaminius in the rear. The Romans 
were terribly defeated, Flaminius killed, and almost the 
whole army annihilated. A mist arising from the lake 
concealed from the Romans the disposition of the great 
Carthaginian's troops. He is remembered along this route, 
and a certain old tower near bears the name of the Tower 
of Hannibal. A little stream runs across the plain called 
Sanguinetto, or the Bloody, from a tradition that it ran full 
of blood on account of the slaughter. The scene is one of 
most consummate loveliness now — aged olive trees, some at 
least one thousand years old, grow on the plain, and the 
peasants were gathering the glistening fruit in the rich sun- 
light. About this place we entered the Pope's dominions, 
and here our baggage would have been searched, and a con- 
siderable delay entailed on us, but for our knowledge of the 



384 ROUTE TO ROME. 

fact, that a fee of a few pauls would purchase exemption — it 
being notorious throughout all Italy, that in the domains 
of the Church, every thing on earth, or Purgatory, can be 
bought. The officers at the Papal Dogana, with their flour- 
ishing coat of arms, representing, by the keys and bishop's . 
mitre and tiara, the Yicar of Christ on earth, at sight of a 
ten-paul piece gave us free ingress. Around the Papal 
Dogana sat some most miserable and ancient-looking beg- 
gars — most wretched specimens of the genus homo — who, 
after the traveler has satisfied the Pope's officers, pounce on 
him in the name of various saints for a further exaction. 
The more ugly and disgusting they are, the better they 
seem to regard their case, and the greater the appeal to be- 
nevolence. Hence, they cultivate wretchedness, and make 
a profit out of misery. 

We took our dejeuner at Passignano, a small village on 
a rocky projection into the lake, with a very high and 
grand old deserted castle on the rocks above it. Every 
thing was dirty and Popish here. However, the hotel was 
not as bad as it could have been, and we had some fine 
fish out of Lake Thrasimene. The view of this silver lake, 
with its playful waves, its little island with an ancient 
monastery on it, surrounded by fine grounds, was fine in 
the soft Italian sunlight. Our road, leaving Passignano, 
skirted the lake for some miles, then ascended high hills, 
on which were extensive series of ruins, surrounded by 
walls of noteless date. The slightest notice of any of the 
people here causes them to make a servile bow, remove 
their hats, and become whining beggars. There are several 
square old towers here, of which nothing is known. The 
view backward from the hill, toward the lake, is one of 
remarkable loveliness. We descended now into a valley, 
passed old dingy villages, dirty and dreary. Night at 
length came on ; a mysterious looking moon arose ; we were 
in a most dreary and lonely valley, just the place for 



•ROUTE TO ROME. 385 

brigands, who frequent this route. Several robberies have 
been lately committed — we are yet some distance from 
Perugia, when suddenly our coach was stopped. We heard 
strange voices, loud noises — were they brigands or not? 
Cautiously we opened the carriage, summoning all our 
latent bravery, ready for any emergency, when behold our 
vetturino conductor was only bargaining with some per- 
.sons near for two discreet and demure oxen, which were 
soon added in front to our four horses, to draw us up the 
hill, the legal regulations requiring additional force at 
certain points. After some time, the long, high, black 
walls of Perugia were seen ; we entered the gateway, drove 
to the '' Hotel de France,'* an ancient palace. Perugia is 
a very ancient city ; its inhabitants had long wars with the 
Romans before the latter established their dominions over 
all Italy. It was rebuilt by Augustus as a Roman colony, 
and, during the middle ages, was independent, sustaining 
itself for many years against the encroaching power of the 
Popes. It has portions of the Etruscan walls, numerous 
tombs cut in rocks and caves, and others walled up, with 
fine sculpture and carvings. Its population is about eight- 
een thousand. A school of painting, of which Pietro Peru- 
gino was the great master, originated here. It has one 
hundred churches, and fifty monastic establishments. There 
are several Popes buried in some of these churches. The 
paintings are very numerous — the best by Perugino, who 
was the teacher of Raphael ; there are some of the earlier 
ones of the latter master. The aspect of all these cities, 
however, is gloomy, uncomfortable, classic, Roman, antique 
as well as antic, and very interesting. You will see them 
on high, irregular hills, with every variety of shape, style, 
appearance, grasped by their thick stone walls, with huge 
arched, sculptured, Roman gateways, mossy grown, and 
bending beneath the weight of their own years. It is all 
too old — the mind wants something fresh and new — but 
25 2 H 



386 EOUTE TO ROME. 

here, though the inhabitants have a youth once, their coun- 
try and its monuments are always old. There is mind here 
--high genius — but the age of their country is on them, 
and keeps all down; their religion, too, represses exer- 
tion. 

But the morning is up. We take our -usual early start, 
about six-and-a-half o'clock. I, leaving the carriage, walked 
down the long descent from Perugia ; looking back, a fine 
sight was presented in the gleaming of the risen sun — the 
first rays on the spires and old walls. We soon come into 
the valley of the Tiber, and crossing a long stone bridge, 
see this ancient, celebrated river, unsurpassed by any stream 
whatever in its associations with the past. The vale is 
fertile, and beautiful in its garniture of wheat and its sur- 
roundings of hills and mountains, the latter sprinkled with 
snow. The river, which, in its whole course, is about two 
hundred and forty-nine miles long, is not large at this 
point, yet seems to have an antique majesty and dignity 
about it. Italy presents many beautiful scenes along this 
route. Few surpass, however, that I saw yesterday in as- 
cending the mountain from Lake Thrasimene. It dwells 
on the mind as a loveliness apart. The lake, beautiful as 
molten silver — the three islands, one of them with an an- 
tique monastery — the assemblage of ruins on the hills 
above — the square tower of observation near them — were 
all strangely lovely in their age and decay. Since crossing 
the Tiber, we are out of ancient Etruria, with its monu- 
ments of a people anterior to the times of the Eomans and 
written language, and where every thing of which no one 
knows any thing is at once pronounced Etruscan. To-day 
on our course we have on one side much level, fertile wheat 
land ; on the other are some snoAV mountains, on one of 
which is situated most picturesquely the old town of Assisi, 
with its high, ruined citadel, its Eoman walls, its long line 
of aqueducts on stone arches, its church, upper and lower, 



ROUTE TO ROME. 387 

and its monasteries of the middle ages. We stopped at a 
town near this pLace, and saw the ancient Gothic stone 
chapel of St. Francis. It stands within a large wooden 
church, which was erected over it to preserve it ; and many 
poor and ignorant people were in it praying instead of 
working. There were all kinds of devotional things hung 
around it and in it ; candles were burning in it, and myste- 
rious ceremonies were being performed by priests in sur- 
plice and stole. The people seemed to be of two classes — 
priests and beggars. We saw also near this the little cave 
or cell in which St. Francis spent his life of penance — re- 
garded as a most holy place. It does not admit of standing 
upright, or of lying, or of having any comfortable feeling 
whatever ; it is a stone cell, with iron doors ; and the saint 
who instituted the three vows of poverty, chastity, and 
obedience, must certainly have had a hard time of it. There 
is a monastery here — we entered the refectory, and some 
other rooms. The monks have one of their number to 
preach to them the whole time they eat. The monks here 
seem better fed and in better condition than others whom 
we have seen. The people around here seem to beg with 
more ease than any other beggars. They are all devoted 
to the memory of Saint !l^rancis, whose devotions had a 
great influence on the middle ages. We passed several 
very fine olive and vine plantations, also ancient avenues 
of cypresses ; and on the left, on a mountain, is the very 
ancient town of Spello, whose walls of many eras are seen 
for some distance along the road. The walls have been re- 
paired on their ancient foundation — the stones of the latter 
are very gray and strong and large. The ivy and olive 
grow over and on the walls, and probablj^ there has been 
nothing new in the town for a thousand years. There are 
Roman gateways standing at the entrances of the walls — 
the very stones seem superannuated ; and the town sits 
among the rocks as ancient as the rocks themselves. We 



888 ROUTE TO ROME. 

passed several dirtj, stencliy Italian towns, whose beggars 
surround you at every step, preceding you everywhere — 
anxious to do the most unnecessary services, and intruding 
their offices on you for the most trivial rewards. Yet this 
country is very fertile, and ought to support all its inhabit- 
ants if they would labor properly. Its population was many 
times greater in the ages of the Eoman Empire, and also in 
the middle ages. Much of their time is spent in the churches, 
and Catholic devotions are unenergizing. The day must 
come when this land will be in better hands, and these 
people and this religion reformed or destroyed. The gen- 
eral laws which regulate the political economy of this uni- 
verse will not suft'er them much longer. 

To-day we took our dejeuner a la fourchette at Foligno, a 
vastly dirty town, with a poor hotel, but with numerous 
serious-looking fat priests. As we stop some hours in the 
middle of the day, we have leisure to look at the lions of 
the place, which are generally sacred pictures and churches. 
We were now in the Yale of the Clitumnus, celebrated in an- 
cient and in all times for its exceeding beauty and richness. 
The town of Trevi, situated on a high mountain, the sides of 
which are covered by green and beautiful olive trees, is a very 
interesting object. Its walls are high, and look picturesque 
and old ; and its church bells send softly out on the upper 
air their sweet music. The vale is between high ridges of 
the Apennines, and is to-day bathed in sunny splendor and 
covered with fields of vines and wheat. We stopped in the 
afternoon at the Chapel of St. Salvadore, on the road side, 
supposed to be the temple dedicated to the river god, Cli- 
'tumnus, and described by Pliny as ancient in his time, 
•seventeen hundred years ago. The small, sweet, clear look- 
ing stream flows immediately before the temple. We en- 
tered the temple, and saw in some of the stones of the crypt 
what appeared to be fragments of Roman inscriptions, but 
which we could not decipher. It is now a Catholic chapel. 



routp: to ROME. 389 

and is probably a mucli more recent building than the one 
described by Pliny, though it has some of the stones and 
columns used in the more ancient edifice. The Clitumnus, 
besides being poetical and divine, renders itself useful by 
turning a mill immediately in front of the temple; there 
were numerous cattle also feeding on the rich pastures; and 
the whole scene is inspiring and delicious. The very oxen 
have a wild, poetic majesty about them. This is the route 
on which to read Lord Byron's Fourth Canto of Childe 
Harold. We now passed the source of the Clitumnus. It 
rises out of the limestone rocks of the Apennines, quite a 
considerable stream of pure, clear Avater. The vale con- 
tinues along our route for some distance. The last rays of 
the sun of the last day of the year began slowly to climb 
the Apennines ; then succeeded the rich red of an Italian 
sky as we drew near to Spoleto, the place of halting for 
the night. It is situated among the mountains, the views 
of which are a feast to the eye. We found a good hotel 
here — " La Posta" — and spent the last night of 1857. The 
waiters were extremely attentive ; but here, as at all other 
places, one of the first requisitions is to deliver our pass- 
ports, that they may be sent to the police. This place has 
been a bishopric ever since the time of St. Peter, A. D. 50. 
But the first morning of the new year finds us winding 
amongst the vales and ridges of the Apennines. We had a 
pleasant dinner at a rather unusually good hotel in Spoleto 
last evening, after our labors in traveling. We arrived 
there at half-past five in the evening, or just about dusk; 
and this morning started early, breakfasting at half-past 
five, and starting at six, before a single ray of the sun had 
come over the Apennines. I walked through the town, 
and up the hill on which Spoleto stands, with the solemn, 
sweet moonlight yet mantling its gray old walls — the bells 
ringing out merrily the glad new year. The priests are 
early risers in Catholic countries, as the bells are all ring- 

2 H 2 



390 ROUTE TO HOME. 

ing at five o^clock each morning for early mass. We 
passed out the barrier through the Porta Komana. How 
grim and solid seemed this portion of the ancient walls of 
the city. There is a large part of the Roman aqueduct also 
yet standing. The city being situated on one of the pro- 
jecting spurs of the Apennines, the scenery is most roman- 
tic. One of the gates is yet called the Gate of Hannibal, 
from a two thousand years' tradition that the fierce Car- 
thaginian was repulsed here after his victory at Thrasimene. 
This, as well as the recollection of the obstinate defense of 
Saguntum, in Spain, may have led to his great error in not 
attacking Rome immediately after the battle of Cannae, as 
his genius appears to have inclined him more to open battle 
than to sieges. The ascent to the top of the Apennines at 
this pass is called Monte Somana; and, as the carriage pro- 
ceeded slowly, I alighted and walked to the top, near which 
I caught the first glimpse of the brightly rising sun, strong, 
vigorous, unwearied, and ready for the race of a new year. 
The pass is three thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight 
feet above the sea. The pleasant air, the rich, red glow of 
the Italian morning, and the soft sunlight among the pines, 
were sights among the luxuries of that walk up the Apen- 
nines. At the summit the view is very grand indeed — the 
towns of Foligno, and Spello, and the Yale of Clitumnus 
before them, and the mountains in the rear, were in sight. 
This sunrise among the Apennines is ineffaceable but with 
oblivion of all things beautiful. From the summit we 
descended rapidly through rugged, romantic passes of the 
mountains, formerly infested with brigands. Further down 
the views assumed a wonderful softness, and vines, and 
olives, and green fields again appeared. On one high peak 
to our left I observed a very extensive ruin, many stone 
houses, towers — some entirel}^ fallen, and the whole sur- 
rounded by an embattled, strong wall, over the numerous 
breaches in which crept the ivy — a thorough ruin. This 



^ ROUTE TO HOME. 391 

was probably a strong fortification of some proud cliief. in 
the olclen, and it appeared very picturesque in its great 
height and its strange desolation. Descending into the vale, 
the land seems extremely fertile; the meadows produce 
several crops in a year, and are under admirable cultivation. 
The ancient ruins were probably, after the decadence of the 
original proprietors, occupied by Italian banditti — the deep 
vaults and subterranean passages affording them security 
while they made incursions on these fertile plains. Ap- 
proaching Terni, we see its grim, ancient towers and its 
low, decayed walls. We arrived there about mid-day, and 
remained till the next morning. I took a guide, hired a 
donkey, and proceeded to visit the celebrated cataract, five 
miles from the town. My donkey has elongated ears, but 
is of mild and pensive aspect ; and, by dint of urging be- 
hind, on the part of the attendant, and persuasion before, 
on the part of the rider, he moves along. I took the lower 
road, which passes through a deep vale, along an olive 
orchard ; then througb an ancient arch, near which, on the 
almost inaccessible peak of a mountain, is a stone village, 
completely covering the summit, yet walled in various 
places; but whether of Goth or Christian, Eoman or Lom- 
bard architecture, is difficult to say. To get up to it or 
down from it would seem to be equally impossible. It is 
called Passigno. It seems to be in the world but not of it. 
Huge precipices defend it on all sides. It is the most com- 
pletely desolate-looking place, with its fallen walls, its 
cheerless, stony appearance, I have yet seen — gray, grim, 
and grinning in its antiquity. Further on, in the vale, I 
passed a fine avenue of orange trees and pines, entered a 
deep and awful vale, with vast craggy mountains above, on 
the remote top of one of which is a ruin — alone and lonely 
in its height and age. Then Terni, or properly Cascata 
del Marmore. It is seen amongst its own clouds and 
mists as a white thing coming down from heaven. I saw 



892 ROUTE TO ROME. 

it. in the splendor of a noon-day sun, the air all blue, the 
sun all brightness, the great, rough, perpendicular, thou- 
sands of feet of rugged Apennine limestone all around. It 
is a river that comes down five hundred or six hundred feet 
in one perfect, unbroken plunge. The mist boils up ; the 
white waters fight with rugged rocks, and descend through, 
them four or five hundred feet more; the evergreen vegeta- 
tion of the vale is crusted with a deposit of lime, precipi- 
tated from the mist; the winds and the rainbows come 
around it : the whole a scene of surpassing beauty and splen- 
dor. There are various points of view. I saw it first from 
below, twelve hundred feet above me, as it were, falling over 
a huge mountain, five times higher than Niagara, though 
the latter has a vastly greater volume of water. But this 
scene, in the original grandeur of remote mountain scenery, 
with the^ adorning of antique castles, and towns, and ruins 
on the hills around, has a beauty that makes one silent, and 
you almost love its strange, intense attraction. It is like a 
battle, never to be forgotten, in its solitary, solemn gran- 
deur. The best view is from below, where you see the 
principal cataract through its own creations of mist and 
rainbows — a great moving white ghost of water, in a thin 
gauze thrown over it as if to vail its dazzling beauties. 
Lord Byron's description of this cataract would be more 
appropriate to Niagara; but he is right in his assertion that 
it is worth all the cataracts in Switzerland — and I have 
seen all of the latter of any note: even that of Handek 
and the Khine fall, which he had not seen, are not equal to 
this. Niagara stands alone — the unapproachable — like 
George Washington among men. This cataract is formed 
by the river Velino, and was the work of the Eomans, with 
the view of draining the country above. Keturning to the 
town of Terni, which was the birth-place of Tacitus the 
historian, we strolled around its old streets, saw some of 
its Roman remains, entered its Cathedrals, heard music 



ROUTE TO ROME. 393 

from the organ, and saw the old paintings, some on wood ; 
then visited the piazza and open space, planted with trees, 
and the usual resort for promenading at sunset, dined 
about six o'clock, and prepared for our journey on the 
morrow. 

This morning, January 2d, we left Terni at six o'clock, 
on our way to Rome. We started before the dawn. Our 
course lay at first through a level and lovely country, but 
about sunrise we came to Narni, and saw the first glad rays 
of the sun, reddening on the mountains. We ascended a 
high hill, and saw along the roadside, ruins of palaces or 
castles, that may have been Roman or Gothic; but are, 
assuredly, of the order of decay in architecture now. Then 
the old, slumbering town of Narni, on an almost inaccessi- 
ble precipice, along which rolls the ISTar — a river, white, 
boiling, and sulphury. The subjects of the Pope, spiritual 
and temporal, were up and moving about. Some with their 
little earthen pots, filled with ashes and coals, which they 
carry to keep their hands warm ; others with mules and 
donkeys, carrying wood, brick, vegetables, for sale ; others, 
old women at fruit stalls. Then there is the old, dirty town, 
with its fountain of projecting water in the central piazza, 
the Cathedral, convents, and its extremely gray-looking, 
ancient walls, its gate towers surmounted with the coat of 
arms of the Papacy, in which muskets, drums, a bishop's 
mitre, and the keys of St. Peter, are strongly blended. The 
road continues for some distance along the side of a moun- 
tain, on the ancient Flaminian Way of the Roman times. 
The views for a great distance are most beautiful. You 
have the Nar far below you, and splendid vistas into distant 
regions between the mountains, very old stone villages on 
the summit of isolated hills, walled and built for purposes 
of defence, in a warlike age; the great height to which we 
ascended gave grand views of the Italian mountains, with 
numerous parallel ridges and conical peaks, with a soft. 



394 ROUTE TO ROME. 

hazy, semi-transparent mist, slightly shrouding the olive 
orchards in the vales. About the miserable village of 
Otricoli, the views are very fine. Unless the Pope, however, 
attends to the spiritual condition of his subjects better than 
he does to their temporal, their condition must be destitute 
indeed in the next world, for rarely have I seen more mis- 
erable-looking people. They rely too much on their 
prayers to the Virgin, and too little on themselves. De- 
scending from this, we had on our right most singular and 
numerous monuments of stone — some in clusters, others 
separate — probably Eoman tombs, which lined all their 
principal routes. They seem like circular towers ; but age 
sits heavily on them, and time has done all he could to 
destroy them. On the left, near the termination of the 
descent, on an isolated rock, is a most remarkable-looking, 
old castle, a strong fortress once, yet now all in ruins — 
showing, however-, the thick walls, which have become 
almost a solid rock themselves, through age. Below this, 
on the left, are some remarkable holes cut into the rock, 
which are thought to be Etruscan tombs, as we re-enter a 
portion of ancient Etrusca. We were now again in the 
plain of the Tiber, and reaching Borghetto about noon, we 
ordered our dejeuner a la fourchette. During the two hours 
we remained here, I ascended to a high mountain rock above 
the small village. Here is all that is now left of one of the 
most remarkable and extensive fortifications in this country. 
It is built on, about, and in the immense rock. There are 
very old walls, many caverns in the rock, vaulted stone 
apartments, some of which have been large and stately halls, 
with frescoes now ruined and crumbling. Most of the ruin 
is now covered with grass, blackberry, and other kinds of 
bushes, and the ivy has mounted to the highest walls and 
towers. One tower ascends very high, and is constructed 
of square stones. Much of the foundation is so old, as 
scarcely to be distinguished from the rock on which it is 



EOUTE TO KOME. 395 

built. On one side, far down, is a small stream — on tlie 
other flows the Tiber, through a beautiful, fertile vale. 
Around are villages, on crumbling down, jet still elevated 
peaks; and in the distance rises the high, ancient Mount 
Soracte, alluded to by Horace, and other Eoman waiters, 
with its three peaks. This is classic Italy — but how un- 
flourishing and old ; its inhabitants, how degenerate, ugly, 
coarse ; the towns, though picturesque and strange, are 
gloomy, cold, and filthy. How the mind turns with 
pleasure to the more cheerful, pleasant scenes of our own 
America — the wide, clean streets, and modern houses. This 
is the land for thought, but America is the place for action. 
Here the strong past encroaches on the present ; but there, 
the present is strong, and there is no, gloomy past to intrude 
its mouldering rains on the now. Leaving the miserable 
inn at Borghetto — though the house was once a proud 
castle, some remains of its magnificence being still visible — 
we ascended a high hill which gave us fine views of the 
castellated rock, with its sides perforated for wells, tombs, 
caverns. Approaching Civita Castellana, Mount Soract^ 
comes grandly into view, like an island on land, rising from 
the plain. ISTothing, however, can exceed the romantic 
beauty of Civita Castellana. It is built on an immense, 
volcanic rock, almost perpendicular, around the sides of 
which is a tremendous ravine, with a foaming torrent 
cradled in its dark abyss, and with numerous Etruscan 
tombs cut into the rocks, the remains of Etruscan walls, 
three thousand years old, long anterior to the Eoman times. 
Then there are singular, old, arched, and sculptured gate- 
ways, of the middle ages, roads cut through the volcanic 
rock — every thing massive, grand, ancient, and dirty. 
Around the town are standing, in many places, isolated 
ruins. The town itself is at present incredibly filthy, and 
filled with ragged wretchedness, amidst so many evidences 
of a grand past. There is a fine bridge, one hundred and 



396 ROUTE TO ROME. 

twenty feet above the bottom of the ravine, over which we 
pass, before entering the city. The city is on a plateau of 
red, volcanic tufa, or volcanic rock. Much of the land 
around here is very fertile, but is thinly peopled, the inhab- 
itants preferring to live in the miserable villages. Leaving 
Civita Castellana — the beauty of whose situation, the streams 
around which, the hills perforated with tombs, must long 
remain in memory — our vetturino conductor departed from 
the ordinary route to Rome, and took the course of the 
ancient Flaminian Way, which lies near Mount Soract^, 
through a wild, grass and tree overgrown country, over 
which seemed scattered gloomy ruins. The land appeared 
to be of excellent quality, gently undulating, oftering every 
phase and form of beauty, but utterly neglected and gone 
into decay. Mount Soract^, with its monastic institutions 
upon its hatched-shaped summit, was very near. Whether 
our driver, who had recently become gloomy and taciturn, 
intended, by deviating from the ordinary route, to deliver 
us into the hands of Italian banditti, who from the laxity 
of the Papal government still infest this route, was an idea 
that occurred to our mind when, on a sudden, our carriage 
stopped in a dark valley, a little after night, and hearing 
voices in altercation, we looked out and discovered some 
dark, fierce, half- attired men, with cloaks on their arms. 
But in a moment, we saw our way was stopped, not by 
banditti, but by sheep — a drove of which .nearly filled up 
the road. In the ancient town of Rignano, where we soon 
after arrived, we found a comfortable hotel and good fare. 
We have come thirty-eight miles to-day. Yesterday, we 
made sixteen miles; the day before, thirty-two miles; the 
second day after leaving Florence, forty-eight miles; and 
twenty -seven yet remain to Rome. 

But 'tis morning, January 3d, and we are on our route to 
Rome ; " Per Roma," is written on the guide posts. The 
scene around us is Italian. The sun is looking over the 



ROUTE TO ROME. 897 

Sabine Apennines, wliicli are rough, irregular, jagged — 
peaked like a suddenly solidified mountain wind-tossed 
wave. On the roadside appears, at intervals, the old, paved, 
Roman way of Flaminius. The Roman legions marched 
along this route to meet Hannibal, when the empire of the 
world was the prize. In some places it is seen, with the 
square limestones, abont a foot square, of which it was 
paved, peering on the roadside, with an accumulation of 
many feet of earth above it, the stones projecting from the 
hillside. These stones are now broken up to macadamize 
the modern road ; the ancients paved with broad, flat stones, 
seven or eight inches in depth — the moderns with pebbles. 
This land around us is now resting, as well as the people, 
from the fierce excitement of the past. In old days this 
route must have been highly interesting, on account of its 
roadside garniture of tombs and palaces. Many of the 
former yet peer from the hillsides, like caves cut into the 
rocks. But they are tenantless now, and were rifled ages 
ago of their proud saixophagi. The remains of stately, old, 
stone halls stand in their decay on many hills around, 
mouldering uselessly in their age, dying at top first. These 
probably belong to the middle and dark ages — the more 
highly ornamented remains of Roman villas having proba- 
bly long since disappeared, and been carried off in annihi- 
lating wars. The morning is magnificent. We have now 
entered that wondrous, modern desolation, the Campagna, 
once covered with gardens and Roman villas, but now more 
desolate than a desert. It is the country within a few miles 
of and surrounding Rome. Its surface is slightly hilly, and 
it is without cultivation, though the land does not appear 
really sterile. It is a fine day for approaching Rome. The 
sky is slightly gauzed with stratified clouds. The Tiber 
flows a short distance to our left. The Campagna has 
many deep gullies and fissures in it, and the old towers, 
around which clings the ivy, and at the base of Avhich may 

2i 



398 ROME. 

be seen small, blue, starry flowers, are scattered over its 
expanse. But about nine miles from Rome, sitting on the 
open seat in front of the carriage, I caught the first sight 
of the dome of St. Peter's church, rising far above that 
sepulchre of the past, the city that lies below. It appeared 
through the slight morning mist that hung over the Tiber, 
with the cypress-wooded Monte Mario on its right, Rome, 
on its seven hills, around it. This sight — the sight of the 
Eternal City, long the mistress of the world, then its 
religious Sovereign — is among the unforgetful, choice 
treasures of memory. On the east and south, beyond 
Rome, were seen, bounding the Campagna, portions of the 
Apennines, in sunlit snow. There, then, stood at last, the 
object of our wanderings — 

"The Niobe of nations — there she stands, 
Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; 
An empty urn within her withered hands, 
Whose holy dust was scatter'd long ago." 

It seemed as if one had suddenly seen back into antiquity 
for twenty-five hundred years. 

''0 Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! 
The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, 
Lone mother of dead empires ! and control 
In their shut breasts their petty misery." 

This city has exercised more influence on the destinies of 
mankind than any other. All the modern kingdoms of 
Europe are but the pageants of Rome's great Empire, that 
lost creation of Time. Our learning, our language, and our 
laws are indebted to it. The strongest political idea the 
world has ever entertained, was the Roman Empire. Its 
ruins are everywhere the astonishment of the present. As 
we approach the city, our road passes near to the Tiber ; 
the tomb caves of old, now used as resorts for cattle, become 



KOME. 399 

more numerous ; and old tumbling-down walls, shattered 
though massive yet,, built of stone and brick mixed, are on 
many hills — some almost level with the ground, others re- 
duced to a single tower. Cattle and sheep are in some 
places seen grazing on the unfenced Campagna. In some 
of the tombs along the roadside, the niches for the sar- 
cophagi are still to be seen, through the yawning mouths. 
Nearer the city, the knolls and small hills sloping to the 
river, with intervening pastures, become very beautiful. 
No trees are on the Campagna ; but there are a few grass 
flowers strewn in clusters on different places, looking won- 
deringly about, apparently happy in their exemption from 
such a past as has been enacted here. Our route, near this, 
unites with the postal route. We cross the Tiber here, on 
a line ridge — the Ponte Molle — and look down on the yel- 
low, rapid waves of the " Tiber, father Tiber, to whom the 
Romans prayed." It was here that Constantine had his cel- 
ebrated vision, here he fought Maxentius, who was drowned 
in the river, and here the seven-branched candlestick of 
gold, brought by Titus from the Temple of Jerusalem, fell 
into the river, and was never seen thereafter. The river is 
four hundred feet wide at this point, and apparently deep, 
and certainly rapid. No trees are on its banks. Passing 
along a straight road, with houses and villas on each side, 
a wall separating them from the road, we came to the Porta 
del Popolo, the gate of Rome on this side. We see the 
drear, ancient walls on each side, and we, in a moment, are 
in the city. We enter at the Piazza del Popolo. On our 
left is a fine church, and near it the sunny summit of 
Monte Pincio, one of the hills of modern Rome; in front, 
are two twin churches of the same style, and both beautiful. 
We drove along the Corso, the principal street of the modern 
city, to the Hotel d'Angleterre, in a pleasant and agreeable 
location, and felt at length that we were in Rome. When 
we entered the gates, of course our passports were de- 



400 KOME. 

manded, and our luggage assumed to be examined; six 
pauls, however, procured exemption from this vexatious 
delay, even in tlie Pope's own city. In return for our pass- 
ports, we got a printed paper requiring us to appear 
within twenty -four hours, at the Police Office, and reclaim 
them. 

The impression produced by Eome on the mind is almost 
painful. You are familiar with its past, and it does not 
readily coalesce with the present. You cannot realize that 
you tread where Komulus, the Tarquins, Cicero, Caesar, 
Augustus, Constantine have been ; and that such mighty 
throes in earth's past have spent their convulsions here. 
You can only gradually — as when you go strolling about, 
and meet in every street columns, or statues, or fountains, 
whose names are linked with the past — realize that you are 
in the mighty idea — Eome — the locality that has ruled the 
world spiritually, since it ceased to rule it temporally, and 
you believe in the substantial existence of the truth of his- 
tory. Entering the city at the point we did, one of the first 
things seen is a vast Egyptian obelisk. These are numerous 
in Eome, being brought from Egypt by the emperors, but 
during the middle ages had fallen down, and were buried 
many feet in the ground. Within the last two or three 
hundred years the Popes have raised them on pedstals, 
converted them to Christianity, surmounted them with 
crosses, and thus made them subservient to the worship of 
the Virgin, though the mute, mysterious, but meaningful 
hieroglyphics of ancient Egyptian idolatry are still on 
them. This one stood before the Temple of the Sun in 
Egypt. I saw the sunset from Monte Pincio the evening 
of my arrival in the city. It set amidst the sea of Eome's 
glorious church spires, St. Peter's church in full view, and 
around me were the numerous statues and mementoes of 
the past. It is one of the seven hills of Eome, and is now 
a grand public promenade with gardens, walks, seats, flow- 



ROME. ' 401 

erS; carriage-drives; and here are seen the splendid equi- 
pages of England, France, Kussia, and other countries,. 
Rome being a central point in Europe for spending the 
winter. The various classes are very distinctly marked. 
There is a refinement, elevation, softness and rather feeble- 
ness indicated by the appearance of the higher classes of 
England's aristocracy, especially the ladies. The Pope's 
military band here discourses fine music each evening; and 
around are fine modern statues and imitations of the 
antique. There are those of Ariosto, Tasso, Michael An- 
gelo, Eaphael, Tacitus, and many others. This is near 
modern Eome, which lies principally in the Campus Mar- 
tins of ancient Eome, embracing the base and summits of 
three only of the seven hills of ancient Eome. Modern 
Rome is not much over four hundred years old; the ancient 
city, part of which was once on this point, has nearly all 
disappeared. But Eome has a distinct and awful chapter 
of its ruins, which cover a space much more extensive than 
the modern city, occupying the site of the ancient city, and 
consisting now of her indestructible remains of palaces, 
baths, temples, tombs, villas, amphitheatres, walls — in short, 
the ruins of thousands of years — which time could not des- 
troy, which war could not waste, and which all the innu- 
merable changes to which the devoted city has been ex- 
posed have left changeless, have sought in vain to triumph 
over ; which Attila, Totila, Bourbon, and Bonaparte have 
battered at in vain, and which still survive the death, ruin 
and damnation of all conquerors, and which only the last 
conflagration of the world can destroy. The world, and 
Rome, and the Coliseum are to go down together, according 
to the old mystic legend. Nothing can be a grander sub- 
ject of contemplation than this ancient city — first, its ori- 
gin, two thousand five hundred years ago, on the Palatine 
Hill ; then its gradual rise to power and refinement, and its 
conquest of all the world; then its greatness under the 
26 2i2 



402 KOME. 

Caesars ; its gradual decline before the successive hordes of 
barbarians from the north, especially after the removalof 
the seat of government to Constantinople; then its ultimate 
subjugation by the barbarians; the almost divine power the 
Popes claimed and exercised during the middle ages; the 
almost extinction of the ancient city, and the rise of the 
Eome of the middle ages ; the extirpation of the latter, and 
the rise of the present city under Sixtus Y. ; then its extra- 
ordinary treasures of art and architecture, and its sublime 
ruins. It is probable Kome, upon the whole, combines 
more interesting points than any other place on earth. 
Some might consider Jerusalem more interesting. But 
even religiously speaking, Jerusalem, though there the 
Christian religion originated, has not exercised so potent 
an influence, to say nothing of its inferiority in political 
influence and in works of taste and learning. Of all the 
places in Eome the Vatican Palace, the winter residence of 
the Pope, with St. Peter's Church adjoining, is probably the 
most interesting. 

Most Americans and English in Eome stay at the hotels 
near the Piazza di Spagna, at the base of the Pincian Hill, it 
being regarded as the healthiest and cleanest part of the 
city. From this point one goes down the Via di Condotti. 
crosses the Corso, then along the Yia della Fontanella, then 
the Yia del Arvo, the Yia di Tor di Noria to the bridge 
of St. Angelo, which you cross, seeing the Tiber's yellow 
waves below. On each side of the bridge are statues of 
saints and apostles, gigantic but beautiful. On the further 
end is an immense round tower or citadel, built by the 
Eoman emperor Hadrian to contain his ashes. It is now 
the French fort, the Emperor of France having six thousand 
soldiers in the city, who have military occupation of it. On 
the top of the citadel is seen a gigantic figure of a winged 
angel — St. Michael — (for the Popes sometimes kindly 
canonize angels) sheathing his sword. This great tomb, 



ROME. 403 

bui^ by the emperor Hadrian one hundred and thirty 
years after Christ, has been for ages a fortress, and the 
ashes of Hadrian long lost ; but the sarcophagus in which 
they were held is in the Vatican Palace. You are now 
across the Tiber. This side of the river is much the small- 
est portion of Eome, though the inhabitants pride them- 
selves as being the only descendants of the ancient Romans, 
Then you go by the Borga Nuova, and arrive at the Grrand 
Piazza di San Pietro, a great place in front of St. Peter's 
and the Vatican Palace. You have passed over a consider- 
able part of the ancient Campus Martins, on which the 
modern city is built, from the Monte Pincio to the Monte 
Vaticano. You have found some of the streets on this 
route very dirty, others comparatively clean, with some 
grand-looking palaces on them, with open, arched gateways 
leading into inner courts. In front of these palaces is gen- 
erally a piazza or open place. These palaces are generally 
built of a peculiar kind of hard stone, called travertin, 
which is very durable though somewhat porous. The 
Piazza di San Pietro, on which you now are, has an air 
of richness, grandeur and interest unsurpassed in the world. 
In its centre rises a lofty Egyptian obelisk. On each side, 
though at some distance from the obelisk, is a fine fountain. 
The piazza is bounded on two sides by a splendid colon- 
nade, perhaps the finest in the world, consisting of four 
rows of travertin columns, sixty-one feet high, and admit- 
ting of two carriage-roads under the arcades. The number 
of columns in the two sides, which are almost semicircular, 
is two hundred and eighty-four. The great St. Peter's is 
at one end of this piazza, with its proud fagade and its still 
grander dome, and its statues in front and on the roof. 
This, though the largest church in the world, occupying 
two hundred and forty thousand square feet, impresses one 
in regard to its exterior, not so much on account of its 
great size as on account of its perfection of style and archi- 



404 ROME. 

tectural beauty. The fa9ade has been condemned a^ too 
heavy, and as concealing the great dome built by Michael 
Angelo. The great size is concealed by the exquisite taste 
and interesting character; and as to Michael Angelo's dome, 
nothing can conceal that. On the right is the Vatican 
Palace, said to have four thousand six hundred and twenty- 
two apartments. Its length is one thousand one hundred 
and fifty-one feet, its breadth seven hundred and sixty- 
seven ; it has eight grand staircases, two hundred smaller 
oneS; twenty courts, and, like St. Peter's, occupied more 
than three hundred years in building. Both occupy nearly 
the site of Nero's circus — the scene of his atrocious perse- 
cutions of the Christians — where St. Peter was (it is alleged) 
buried, and there have been churches on that ground for 
fifteen hundred years, the first having been built by Con- 
stantine the Great. The building of St. Peter's extended 
over the reigns of forty -three Popes, and cost fifty million 
dollars. The cost of keeping it in repair each year is more 
than thirty thousand dollars, and it requires the constant 
attention of more than sixty workmen. The expense of 
building it was defrayed in part by the sale of indulgences, 
from which arose Luther's Reformation. Michael Angelo 
died in his eighty-ninth year, in 1563, when the great 
dome, which is double, was completed. The Vatican being 
open to-day to the public, I walked through some of its 
, vast and interesting halls. You ascend by a splendid stair- 
case, pass some magnificent courts, see fine statues, great 
frescoes, and then enter a long corridor, two hundred and 
thirty yards in length, splendid beyond description, and 
on each side are ranged pieces of sculpture dug out of 
Rome's ruins. The collection is unequalled in the world. 
The mere ruins of Rome have furnished forth a more august 
collection than all the genius of all times of all other coun- 
tries : this, too, after the city has been sacked and destroyed 
eight or ten times, and twenty feet of soil have accumulated 



ROME. 405 

on its most famous places, and the old, immortal hills them- 
selves have dwindled down and lost themselves and their 
glories in the dust. You go first through the Gallery of 
Epitaphs or Inscriptions — Greek, Roman, and early Chris- 
tian. All these were found in and on tombs, and in the 
Catacombs outside the city. Those on one side are heathen, 
and have no immortality in their epitaphs, no rising again, 
while those of the early Christians express an exalted hope; 
then through long galleries of the splendid, striking, severe 
sculpture of the ancients, found everj^where over Italy — 
emperors, chimeras, animals in marble — all expressive, an- 
tique, and wonderful, and lovely in their exquisite art; 
then through rooms of old Egyptian tombs, mummies 
vailed and unvailed, some glaring at you in horrid, hideous, 
hateful death, mutilated by the unseen fingers of Time, and 
looking weary at not being allowed to return to common 
dust again. There were sarcophagi of all kinds of marbles, 
porphyry, etc., with high and deep bas reliefs, expressing 
volumes. It took more than half of the whole lapse of time 
since the creation, with the highest genius of earth, to pro- 
duce what I saw to-day — the eye, wearied with gazing, and 
the mind with remembering, and the heart with feeling. 
The great tapestries representing some of the Cartoons of 
Raphael, are in two large halls, and possess great interest. 
These galleries are, all of them, the imperishably embalmed 
minds of great souls, leaving here deathless legacies out of 
the rich abundance wherewith God had blessed them to all 
succeeding times. 

But the great bell of St. Peter's sounds with its unwritten, 
but mighty music, and the Pope rides out in his splendid 
carriage and his six fine horses, and a band of music strikes 
up and the drums beat, and the French soldiers in the 
piazza present arms, for he is the Head of the Church — 
Christ's Vicar on Earth — his Holiness, Lord God ! — the Pope. 
Yerily, St. Peter himself never went out thus attended, 



406 EOME. 

unless it were to execution. But times are changed. The 
Pope is kept on his throne bj French soldiers, and though 
he is fallen from his high estate in the middle ages, he is 
thus brought nearer to St. Peter's condition. Austria or 
France either could destroy his temporal power in a mo- 
ment, and restore him to what he was originally — a plain 
Bishop — for the first five hundred years after Christ ; but 
through motives of policy, he being almost venerated by a 
large portion of their subjects, they suffer him to retain his 
present position. Or if they did not uphold his temporal 
power, it would go down from sheer weakness, as the fiction 
of a Pope is repugnant to the common sense of all modern 
times. 

To-day, January 5th, has been one of those undelightful 
days that are not much relished by sight-seers — rain all 
day. I strolled along the Corso, the principal street of 
modern Eome. I called at the Palazzo Braschi, where the 
American Minister, Mr. Cass, resides, and at several other 
places, but have not yet entered on the vast and mournful 
study of Kome's ruins. There are many English and 
Americans in Kome at present, wandering through the glo- 
rious galleries and ancient ruins. There is much talk here 
at present in regard to the late earthquake near Naples, the 
account of which probably reached Paris and London be- 
fore it did here, as papers and telegraphic dispatches and 
general news about things near, are luxuries unknown in 
Italy. It is said to have destroyed fifteen thousand people. 
It does not, however, deter persons from going there from 
Kome. I know nothing comparable in majestic interest to 
the mind equal to a visit to Eome. 

To-day, January 6th, has been one of the great fete days 
of the Eoman Church. Nearly a third of the year is, in 
all, occupied by these holidays, during which the people 
are not permitted by law to labor, and which, perhaps, may 
be one cause of so much, beggary and wretchedness. You 



EOME. 407 

see tlie people standing about in their raggedness, kissing 
statues of Jesus, the cross, or images of the Apostles, or 
attending Mass. The best-looking part of the people are 
the soldiers and priests. They all look fat, sleek, and well- 
cared for, and physically, are, in general, superior to the 
people — the best specimens of the latter being used to re- 
cruit the former. This feast is that of the Epiphany, or the 
showing of Jesus Christ, when a babe, in the manger. In 
some of the churches there is a theatrical representation of 
the Virgin and Child. One church has the Bambino, or 
little babe, a carved image of a child, said to have been cut 
out of a tree on Mount Olivet, and painted by St. Luke 
himself, who, as the Catholic Church had need of a painter, 
is selected to perform what legendary painting is necessary. 
This is shown to the people, and carried about, and has 
miraculous powers, and has wonderful influence in families 
in various interesting situations — being often sent for, and 
getting more fees than any physician. I visited the Sistine 
Chapel — the Pope's private chapel in the Yatican Palace — 
remarkable for the great fresco of Michael Angelo, repre- 
senting the Last Judgment. Those who enter here, if gen- 
tlemen, must have on a black dress coat ; if ladies, must be 
in black, with faces vailed, and no bonnets on. Several 
were excluded by the gorgeously attired chamberlains at the 
door, for lack of those prerequisites. Many Cardinals were 
present, splendidly arrayed — their carriages and servants in 
red livery — themselves in crimson velvet, with little boys, 
or domestics, bearing up the train of their long, flowing 
robes. The Pope, a benign-looking old man (Pius IX., now 
in his sixty-sixth year), came in by a private entrance : the 
cardinals kiss his hand, kneeling before him ; he blesses 
them — they hold his mitre — and the whole thing is grand, 
imposing, and puerile. The music, however, is most rich 
and solemn — the music is always vocal when . the Pope is 
present — and the whole ceremony of High Mass is a most 



408 ROME. 

sacred-looking spectacle. It is a kind of repetition of tlie 
death of Christ. 

But St. Peter's ! I entered this the first church of the world. 
The sight is probably worth any other moment of our lives. 
There are five doors — the thick heavy curtain is drawn 
aside, and you enter. The impression is intense, painful, 
impatient, disheartening, like that which one must feel at 
the self-conscious height of all enjoyment. You see an 
immense pavement composed of various marbles ; and at 
the further end — the church is a Latin cross — nearly six 
hundred feet from the entrance, you see the High Altar, 
standing over the relics of St. Peter, and in front of this, 
in a circle, are eighty-nine lamps burning night and day. 
There are four spiral columns of the Composite order, 
richly ornamented, supporting a grand canopy over the 
altar ; at the latter, the Pope can alone celebrate mass. As 
"usual there is a vast central nave, the roof of which is 
vaulted, and there are two side aisles, five massive piers 
separating them from the aisle. But who can describe St. 
Peter's ! It is like jumping into the jewel chamber of 
Heaven. Genius has done all it could ; wealth and taste have 
exhausted their resources. Grand and numerous as are the 
churches I have seen, none can compare with this. One 
can scarcely realize that he has seen St. Peter's after he has 
been in it. While I was in it, in one of the side chapels, as 
large as a very large church, mass was being performed — 
the music swept through the sublime church, like the rush- 
ing of mighty legions of angels' wings along the Empyrean 
of Heaven. Years may pass — all manner of events may 
beat and war upon the heart — but nothing can surpass, 
nothing can equal, nothing efface the impression left by 
the view of the interior of St. Peter's. Near the mighty 
twisted bronze columns of the High Altar is an expressive 
bronze statue of the Apostle Peter — it is kingly majestic ; 
the Catholics in passing always kiss the toe, which they 



EOME. 409 

have nearly kissed off. The chair in which he sat as Pope, 
enclosed in a huge gilded exterior of bronze, is also here, 
and the crypt contains his bones. It is a difficult thing 
for any human being to manage such vast size and coerce 
it into beauty, yet it is done in this church. The im- 
pression of the great old giant- souled Michael Angelo is 
the only thing about the church that is greater than it, 

Thursday, 7th. — We are out to-day on a sight-seeing 
expectation — our plan being not to have any plan. Here 
is a large church in the Via Lata, near the Doria Palace. 
Churches of the twelfth century are no longer regarded by 
us as old. Many of those in Kome go back for their foun- 
dations to the second and third centuries, and are conse- 
quently fifteen hundred years old. They have, however, 
often been materially modified and adapted to the taste 
prevailing in different ages. This church occupies the site 
of the house in which St. Paul lived with the Centurion. 
We descend into the dark crypt, and see the Eoman walls 
of the old foundation ; and we see a singular spring of 
water near, the legend of which is that it sprang up mirac- 
ulously to enable the Apostle to baptize the Centurion 
whom he converted ; rather an impossible fact, by the way, 
as sprinkling, considered as religious baptism, was unknown 
for two hundred years after Paul's day, until introduced 
by the Catholics themselves, and at first only in cases in 
extremis. But now, through streets whose dirtiness and 
stenchiness are vast and almost interesting, yet along which 
are palaces of splendid architecture belonging to families 
whose names were renowned in the middle ages, and pass- 
ing through a church built over the palace, we descend by 
a staircase, which is modern, into dungeons which are old — 
very. There are two dungeons, one below the other. The 
architecture is Etruscan, formed of immense rough stones, 
without cement. There were no doors, the prisoners being 
let down into them by cords, through an opening in the 

2k 



410 EOME. 

floor. They are at the base of the Capitoline Hill, and are 
many feet below the present surface of the ground. They 
are fearfully dark and dreary, and are twenty-four hundred 
years old, being mentioned by the oldest Eoman writers. 
Here Jugurtha, king of Numidia, was starved to death, 
the Catiline conspirators were strangled, and St. Peter was 
confined in it. The old priest who acted as guide showed 
us the pillar to which he was chained; and there is also a 
spring down deep in the lower dungeon, of whose waters 
we drank, which of course had sprung up miraculously, to 
enable St. Peter to baptize his jailers. It is like a well. 
These prisons were state-prisons, and were built in the 
kingly periods of Eome. Catholicism, which requires 
larger faith than any other system of religion whatever, as 
one must believe not only in the Bible but in the vast 
volumes of legendary lore, has of course converted these 
dungeons into chapels. It is one of the lovely winter-days 
of Pome, a bright day for exploring old ruins. We have 
come down through the Corso, then to part of the Capito- 
liue Hill, through streets of hideous filth, into old Eome, 
and here it is sure enough, in all its voiceless, magnificent, 
mournful ruins. I bave stood on the Capitoline Hill and 
looked at the ruins of Eome, strewn around. Here are the 
" chief relics of almighty Eome." Here the three hundred 
Triumphs ascended in proud and long array in the glorious 
days of past time, and here are their unextinguishable me- 
mentoes, speaking, though mute, in affecting eloquence. 
Here are statues of old Eoman s in bronze and marble, 
broken and sad looking. They have been found in many 
places among the ruins, dug up and placed here. One, an 
equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, is admitted to be the 
finest equestrian statue in the world. It is astonishingly 
fierce, Eoman-like, full of life and action. The piazza on 
the top of the hill is surrounded by buildings of the fif- 
teenth century, and churches — these occupy the places of 



THE ROMAN FORUM. 411 

the ancient Eoman temples. On one side yon pass amidst 
dirty honses, then through a garden where are orange and 
olive trees, and you come to the assumed place of the 
Tarpiean rock, and look down it, " where a thousand years 
of silenced factions sleep !" It is not very high now, not 
over forty feet, and is merely an abrupt declivity, the accu- 
mulations of the soil, the old houses below, and the abrasion 
of the hill, having reduced its size. Descending on the. 
other side of the hill, (Capitoline) you have in one view the 
most extraordinary collection of ruins in the world. It is 
the place of the Eoman Forum. It looks like the haggard 
spectre of a city. It is fifteen hundred years since the 
commencement of the decline of Eome and the Eoman 
Mythology, and during that time the earth itself has grown 
up around these ruins, to the height of twenty or more 
feet. You see excavations that have been made by the 
French and private English noblemen, in some places dis- 
closing the ancient Eoman pavement of the Forum, mould- 
ering and mutilated marbles arches, substructions of tem- 
ples, Corinthian columns, fragments of the porticos of tem- 
ples — some excavated down to the base, and others with 
buried bases, standing all as they have stood for a thousand 
years, and weary that the world would not be no more. 
Some are in clusters and some are solitary. Here are eight 
columns of granite in one place, supposed to have stood at 
the foot of the Temple of Saturn. What has become of the 
rest no one knows. Near are three Corinthian columns of 
beautiful white marble, supposed to be a part of the temple 
erected to Yespasian. Near there, a single column, to whom 
or of what long unknown, called by Lord Byron, "the 
Nameless Column, with a buried base," but recently ex- 
cavated to the base, and ascertained from an inscription laid 
bare to be elevated to the Emperor Phocas, and supposed by 
some to be coeval with the Catholic religion. Further on 
stands another fragment of some temple of marble; grim and 



412 BuiNS. 

black with age, but lofty and imposing. But why describe 
a marble wilderness of ruins! Who knows what or where 
these are or have been ! Cicero, Julius Caesar, Augustus, 
Pompey, could tell — but where are they ? You see the 
Rostrum, the Arch of Septimus Severus, with its Latin in- 
scription and its bas relief. On others are portions of in- 
scriptions, the remainder belonging to lost fragments. 
Ruins and mighty ruins, massive and strong yet. There 
come down to us over the gulf of time, the memories of 
the wars of the middle and declining ages of Rome — the 
names of JSTarses, Belisarius, Attila, Totila — it was the 
impossible object of the barbarians to extinguish Rome, 
when these temples were destroyed and every thing port- 
able and valuable removed. The remainder, however, is a 
city of ruins. The Via Sacra passed along this route. 
There are people digging and working among the ruins, 
and on the unexcavated parts of the Forum are houses of 
the middle ages, during which the locality even of the 
Forum was lost — nor are its limits even now defined, and 
each ruin is the subject of numberless unsatisfactory dis- 
quisitions. The ground is called by an Italian name, 
equivalent to '' Cattle market," and the filthy inhabitants 
are spreading out clothes to dry, after washing on mighty 
and majestic Roman ruins and fragments of temples ; and 
dirt and raggedness abound where even the very air is a 
loveliness, and the most classical memories cling like lost 
spirits. An orange tree is hanging out its golden fruit 
near, in mockery of marble desolation. 

Priests, with black, broad, shovel hats, and long cloaks, 
and absorbed countenances, walk about. The w^hole place 
and people seem to have had their past long ago, and weeds 
and shrubs grow on marble ruins. The marble itself has 
peeled off the columns, and the statues look as if Time 
were trying his rough, awkward hand, on classic counte- 
nances; and the old Romans on them look as ragged as 



RUINS. 413 

the modern Italians. Along those now excavated stone 
pavements, and up those wasted and worn marble steps, trod 
once Cicero, CsBsar, and Trajan. What human wrecks, too, 
are amidst these ruins ! You think of the brightness of 
Kome's past ; you follow the suggestions of your heart as 
you look at these noble ruins ; you then look around, and 
what do you see of the things of the present? Bloated, 
filthy, and wretched beings, that can only beg and rot in 
the sun ; whose virtue and conscience you could buy in any 
matter in which the Virgin Mary is not concerned for half 
a paul. The very air is poisoned with their stenches. 
Further on are eight columns, now standing, their bases 
below the surface, and their upper parts adorned with 
Eoman sculpture ; and an inscription is on the top : " To 
the divine Antoninus^ and the Diviness his wife." The 
temple, of which these were once a part, or all that is left 
of it, has been incorporated into a church ; but the aged 
marble and the massive stones abnegate the present and 
assert a grander antiquity than their present use. There 
are the bases and ruins of seven or eight temples, two or 
three Basilicas or courts of justice, three or four triumphal 
arches near the space occupied by the Forum. Further on 
is the Arch of Titus, almost entire, and really beautiful. 
It is of marble, and was erected to commemorate his triumph 
over Jerusalem. There is sculpture on the inner arch rep- 
resenting on one side Titus in triumph : on the other, the 
captive Jews, bearing the golden candlestick. It is a single 
arch of white marble. It has on it, "The Senate and People 
of Rome to the deified Titus." Then, on the right, you 
have the Palatine Hill, where was the palace of the Caesars, 
now consisting of brick and undecaying substructions, and 
ruins overgrown with weeds, and vines, and ivy. On the 
left stand ruins that are massive and wonderful, but name- 
less and unknown, called by some the Temple of Peace, by 
others the Basilica of Constantine, consisting of three mas- 

2 k2 



414 THE COLISEUM. 

sive arches of brick work, beautiful indeed, and near seventy 
feet high, but overgrown with shrubbery and weeds. Not 
far from this are the remains of the Temple of Yenus and 
Kome ; and still further on the right is the Arch of Con- 
stantine. It commemorates the emperor's victory over 
Maxentius. It consists of three archways, many columns, 
statues and bas reliefs. The ordinary road passes under 
this as well as the Arch of Titus. But you are now before 
the monster of all ruins, the Coliseum, or Flavian Amphi- 
theatre, commenced by Vespasian, A. D. 62, and completed 
by Titus or Domitian. It is therefore more than seventeen 
hundred and eighty years old. Its form is oval, and the 
space it occupies about six acres. It is built of large blocks 
of travertin stone, which has a soft sunset hue, and is 
more durable than marble, and large masses of Roman 
brick work. It looks almost like a prodigious rocky cleft 
in a mountain, chasmed and irregular. There appear to have 
been four stories, the three lower tiers of arches supported 
by piers ; the fourth, a solid wall, faced with pilasters. In 
each of the lower tiers or stories there are eighty arches — • 
the first Doric, the second Ionic, the third and fourth Co- 
rinthian — the whole one hundred and fifty-seven feet high. 
Within w^ere the marble seats, sloping backward from the 
arena, and over the top was, in Roman times, a great awn- 
ing. It could seat eighty-seven thousand persons, who 
could all see the fearful combats of wild beasts, and gladia- 
tors, and the mangling of the Christians — the wild beasts 
being kept in vast dens around the base of the building. 
Moss, and grass, and weeds — an entire and peculiar botany, 
upward of four hundred and twenty species of plants — are 
found growing on this most remarkable of all ruins. There 
are lovely flowers fastening on brick walls more than a 
hundred feet above us, like gentle thoughts clinging around 
a seared and lacerated heart. Here the Jewish captives 
taken in the wars of Titus toiled in a more hopeless slavery 



THE COLISEUM. 415 

than tlieir Egyptian one, with no Moses to come to their 
deliverance, no Christ, no hope. Along the base and under 
the floor of the vast oval, were stalls for the wild beasts, the 
fierce inhabitants of the forests of Asia and Africa, famished 
for days, and then fed on Christians and Jews for the 
amusement of the Romans. But the Christians have all 
conquered where they died. The Popes have converted 
the Coliseum also; and all around its ample interior are 
Stations, or chapels, (fourteen) representing the Ascent up 
Calvary ; and in its centre is a large cross, with the mystic 
spear and sponge; and an inscription on the cross promises 
two hundred days' indulgence to each one who kisses the 
cross. On one side is a pulpit, in which a monk preaches 
every Friday. It was constructed to last forever, but that 
is a vain thing. Yet it has already sustained more catas- 
trophies and calamities than any other building whatever. 
Much of it has fallen down ; the outer circle of walls is not 
near entire. Vast palaces have been built of it. It was used 
for two hundred years as a quarry ; it has been used as a 
fortress; has indeed "fallen from its high estate," and been 
prostituted to all kinds of servile business ; and it is now a 
church. But it cannot die till it shall have accomplished 
the compensations due to its past ; and almost enough yet 
remains to build a city out of it. There are avenues and 
corridors all around it, on each story, between the vast 
columns, and under the lofty arches. Externally the ap- 
pearance presented is that of three rows of lofty arches, 
one above the other, going entirely around the building, 
along which were numerous adornments — statues, frieze- 
work in stone. Brick walls have been constructed by 
modern Popes to keep portions of it from falling down. 
There it sits, an awful, majestic ruin, rising high in the 
blue air of Rome, an unhappy thing in spite of the sun, 
charnelling up its past — as if therein were garnered the 



416 THE PALATINE HILL. 

sacre(Vl^lies of martyrs long ago. Ah! no city has had the 
past^that Eome has had. 

From the Aroh of Titus I ascended by a road between 
old walls to the Palatine Hill. This celebrated hill, where 
stood the palace of the Cassars, part of which was habit- 
able in the eighth century, where palaces had existed since 
the kingly period, and where Komulus is said to have 
made the first foundations of Eome, is now a garden where 
weeds, vines, ivy, cypresses, grow over the substructions, 
and brick foundations of the palaces and temples of old. 
The hill is about one-and-a-half miles in circuit. On one 
place you are shown where stood the Temple of Apollo — 
all around are strewn fragments of marble ruins, mixed 
with the soil. Here was the Temple of Jupiter, the house 
of Augustus, that of Caligula, and further on that of Nero. 
These buildings were probably of such splendor as to sur- 
pass all other palaces that ever existed. In them were 
the glorious master pieces of Greek and Eoman art, and 
against them was especially directed the fury of Eome's 
numerous conquerors, so that nothing remains. Therein 
glittered gems and jewels of inestimable value — all that 
earth could do to render life a scene of enjoyments. The 
laborer's instruments of agriculture now harrow up this 
classical dust. There are several convents on the hill, and 
villas with their gardens. Taking a guide, I descended into 
a subterranean apartment in the hill, called the Baths of 
Livia. The guide lights a torch, and shows you ancient 
Eoman fresco paintings of heads and animals on the black- 
ened, aged wall, the colors of the paintings by some art now 
lost preserving their original brightness ; there are portions 
of baths, niches for busts. You are in the under-ground 
apartments of the palace of the Csesars. The very air is 
ghostly and old. The decline and fall of the mighty 
Eoman empire, and the rise of all the kingdoms of Europe, 
have been since these things were built. All over the 



THE PALATINE HILL. 417 

surface of the Palatine Hill are desolate fragments of walls. 
The soil is fertile. Why should it not be, since it once 
grew temples and palaces, but now it feeds itself from their 
ruins. The soil has fragments of immortal marbles that 
sat in the pride and genius of art, almost living things, 
before Julius Csesar. From an elevated modern villa, on 
the top of the hill, are most interesting views of the old 
city and its surroundings. The Tiber flows on one side, 
and the Circus Maximus was at the base of the hill be- 
between it and the Aventine. The beautiful little antique 
columned thing, with its ugly modern restoration into a 
church, the Temple of Vesta is seen. The Coliseum, the 
Arches of Titus and Constantine, the fragmentary columns 
of the Forum, with the ruined arches they support, the 
domes of the three hundred and sixtv churches of Eome, 
the historic land of the mightiest political idea the world 
has ever seen — are before you. But. the stupid gardeners 
and mule-drivers work on below you. What care have 
they for the antique ! They care more for the paul you 
give them than for the entire past. It is useless to ask him, 
What is this, that, or the other thing? He merely con- 
fesses his io'norance bv one word, whereas it takes others 
many volumes to show the same thing. You might as well 
interrogate the manes of Caligula : they would not answer, 
and he cannot. Who knows, after two thousand five hun- 
dred years of desolation, whether that ivy-grown wall was 
the Palatine Library, or whether these arches were erected 
by Augustus, or whether those crypts, how used as stables 
for cattle, were under Nero's golden house? Who knows 
any thing? He that knows he knows nothing. There are 
corridors, arches and vaults said to have been erected by 
Nero, and the building above, which was inhabited by the 
Emperor Heraclius as late as the seventh century, in other 
parts of the hill, most mournfully mantled with ivy and 
with creeping plants, and around them are the Farnese 
27 



418 THE PALATINE HILL. 

Gardens. Sucla is the Palatine Hill. But 'tis time to re- 
turn; Here, however, is a modern church (by modern is 
meant here not older than four hundred years) near the 
Koman Forum. You enter. A monk, eager to make a 
paul, (a little over a dime,) comes to conduct you. Though 
the churches are splendid on the outside and inside, the 
priests are generally poor. Many things that are really in- 
teresting to an American, or a dweller in a new country, 
are to be seen in all these churches, more than in many a 
museum. Above the altar he shows you a grand old paint- 
ing, then down in the crypt he shows you relics of martyrs. 
Here is a splendid bronze tomb, with adornments of pre- 
cious stones, as lapis lazuli, verd antique marble, angels in 
bronze and silver. How proud some people are after they 
are dead! He tells you here are the bones of saints mar- 
tyred during the ten general persecutions of the Christians 
in the days of the Eomau emperors; and all around are 
elegant marble vases, containing the bones of this and that 
nothing, and a lamp is ever kept burning out the darkness. 
Well, let us respect humble sincerity wherever found. 
There are worse employments in this world than attending 
to the bones of martyrs. 

To-day, January 7th, we have employed one of the best 
guides in all Kome, who speaks a little English, and who 
formerly was in the employ of Louis Napoleon w^hen he 
resided in Rome. The word '' we" sometimes means an 
editor, sometimes a king, queen, and emperor — a Pope also; 
but at present it means ourselves. We are five or six 
Americans, travelers, who have met in Rome and Florence,' 
and one English gentleman. Three of our party are ladies — 
one a sparkling, dark-eyed brunette, whose life has been 
transparently pure, and whose heart is an unclosed rosebud ; 
one a more pensive, thoughtful, and paler beauty — that best 
of all created things, a true American woman — and we are 
out over the sights and scenes of Rome, starting usually at 



THE BORGHESE PALACE. 419 

ten and returning in time for dinner at five o'clock, P. M. 
Our guide takes us first to the Borghese Palace, one of the 
finest palaces of the modern Eoman Cardinal aristocracy. 
Its Picture Gallery is extensive, containing more than eight 
hundred paintings, many of them very fine. The palace is 
near the Tiber, and is built of travertin stone, as are most 
of the palaces. This is a volcanic stone, which underlies 
most of the country hereabouts, and was thrown out of 
some vast, now extinct, volcano, ages ago, or it may be 
coeval with the original fluidity of all things. It is some- 
what, and sometimes very much, porous. The palaces usu- 
ally inclose a four-sided court ; the staircases are of mar- 
bles; the lower windows have iron bars across them. 
The Picture Gallery consists of fifteen rooms. In each 
room are hand-books or catalogues of the paintings, subject 
and master, in Italian and French. There are liveried 
domestics in each room. You enter your name in the 
Visitors' Book, pay a paul to the guard who opens the door, 
if alone — if with a party, two or three pauls; and you walk 
through the splendid rooms, in which you find at almost all 
times travelers like yourself from various countries. It is 
a wearisome business "to go through with" these grand 
galleries. You are embarrassed with their riches. The 
celebrated ^' Entombment of Christ," by Raphael, is here ; 
the " Cumsean Sybil," and the " Chase of Diana," both by 
Domenichino, and very fine. In some fresco paintings 
by Raphael — ^'Archers Shooting with the Arrows of Cu- 
pid" — there is vast genius. From this we went to the 
Capitoline Hill, and ascended to the summit of the tower. 
It has been remarked there is no scene in the world more 
interesting than that presented from this spot. The glor- 
rious past of Rome is in view. Here are the seven im- 
mortal hills. The one on which we stand is the Capitol, 
having had on it the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. The 
Forum, with its mighty and beautiful ruins and excavated 



420 ST. JOHN LATEEAN. 

temples, lies below us. Not far from this is the ruin- 
covered Palatine. On the right of this is the Aventine, 
convent- crowned. To the left of this, crowned by the 
Church of St. John Lateran, first in rank and dignity 
of all churches in the world, is the Coelian. North of this 
is the Esquiline Hill. These hills, though within the walls, 
and in ancient Eome covered with houses and temples, are 
at present solitary and deserted, or covered with vines and 
gardens. There is, north of' this hill, the Yiminal, also a 
lonely desert inside the walls ; and next to this the Quiri- 
nal, on part of which is the Pope's summer palace. These 
are the seven hills of the original city of Kome. Monte 
Pincio, the Janiculum, Monte Yaticano, and others now 
inside the walls, were added under the emperors — the 
Apennines and the Sabine Mountains, lying under white 
snows at present, with celebrated Italian towns on their 
slopes, on one side, the blue Mediterranean on the other — 
the long, plain, undulating, and ruin-sowed Oampagna be- 
tween them — all these are in view: the Tiber rolls between 
the city of the Csesars, with its ruins and excavated tem- 
ples ; the city of the Popes, with its churches, all pass be- 
fore the eye — an unparalleled panorama. It is Eome, the 
Mighty Fallen ! In the tower of the Capitol is the great 
bell — rung but on two occasions : to announce the death of 
the Pope and the beginning of the Carnival. 

Descending from this, we drove to the Church of St. 
John Lateran, ecclesiastically the first church in the world. 
It is grand and gilt beyond description, and rich in marbles 
and mosaics ; relics also — containing the heads of St. Peter 
and St. Paul, for the whole body of any saint is rarely all 
buried at the same place. One of its chapels, that of the 
Corsini family, some of whom were Popes, beggars descrip- 
tion in its rich marbles and gems. It has fine statues and 
a porphyry sarcophagus. This church was originally 
founded by Constantine, and is fifteen hundred years old. 



CHUKCHES IN EOME. 421 

Though St. Peter's is larger and finer, this is regarded as 
the first and principal church of the Catholic world. Five 
General Councils have been held in it. Adjoining it is a 
palacC; in which the Popes dwelt for one thousand years. 
The malaria is depopulating this part of the city, and as it 
thus was rendered unhealthy, the palace has been converted 
into a museum of sculpture. The statues in the sides of the 
nave, and around the roof of the church, are numerous ; 
there are also very strange and old mosaics of the Virgin 
and saints in the interior. Near this church, or Basilica, as 
the seven chief churches of Eome are called, is the Bap- 
tistery, an octagonal structure of brick- work, built by Con- 
stantine. It contains the baptismal font of green basalt, in 
which Constantine was baptized ; also, two magnificent red 
porphyry columns, fine paintings, but chiefly the holy stair- 
case, brought from the house of Pilate in Jerusalem, re- 
nowned as that by which the Saviour descended from the 
judgment-seat, and marked Avith his blood. It is almost 
covered with wooden planks to protect it, and devotees were 
ascending it on their knees, kissing each step before ascend- 
ing it, and thereby get two hundred days indulgence, invest- 
ing thereby a fund of goodness out of which they can draw 
when inclined to sin. The Catholic Church have made out of 
Purgatory a bank which has been worth to them hundreds 
of millions, by which the other world is made of some use 
in this. I saw here a likeness of the Saviour at twelve 
years of age, said to have been painted by St. Luke. Near 
this we passed the remains of the great Aqueduct of 
Claudius, the Koman Emperor. It is a brick canal, on 
gigantic arches, perhaps fifty feet high. Six miles of this 
work still bestride the Campagna. It was originally forty- 
eight miles in length, of which thirty-six were underground. 
The aqueducts in ancient Pome were numerous ; they con- 
veyed water from fountains in the Apennines across the 
Campagna. Modern Eome is, perhaps, as well supplied 

2l 



422 CHURCHES IN" ROME. 

witli water as any city in tlie world. Water is rendered a 
highly ornamental adjunct in most of the cities of Europe, 
in the form of splendid fountains, a thing we sadly neglect 
in America. One would think the Eomans were ignorant 
of the hydrostatic principle that water will rise in a tube as 
high as the fountain, judging from these massive construc- 
tions to convey it on a plane. The aqueducts look like huge 
city walls, pierced with innumerable arches. Then we came 
to a recently discovered tomb, that of Eurysaces the baker, 
a vast monument, concealed for ages in huge walls. It has 
sculpture representing the domestic habits of the Eomans, 
and the processes of making bread, and a bust of the baker 
and his wife. All these ancient tombs have no immortality 
on any of them. Affection clung around the dust of the 
departed ; but except among such philosophers as Seneca, 
Plato, or Socrates, there is no hope of a reunion. Whereas 
that is the burden of the simplest modern Christian grave- 
stone. 

Then we visited another church — a Basilica — that of 
Santa Oroce, or the Holy Cross, which contains portions of 
the true cross of Christ, the fragment of which is exhibited 
to the people on one day in Easter week, as a vast rarity. 
This church was founded A. D. 327, by the Empress 
Helena, who found the true cross on Mount Calvary, im- 
bedded in the ground, and had it transported, with some of 
the earth, from Jerusalem to this place. There has thus 
been a church on this foundation for fifteen hundred and 
forty years. Ladies are not allowed to enter some chapels 
in this church, except one day in the year. There are 
many columns in this church, three of which are of red 
Egyptian granite. The High Altar has an ancient urn of 
green basalt. Most of the portion of Kome over which we 
had now passed, was a desert, or covered with ruins, vines, 
or olives. Our guide now directed our course to the 
Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, one of the finest 



CHURCHES IN EOME. 423 

churches in Eome. The view along the aisle of this church 
is splendid. There are two rows of Ionic columns of white 
marble. This church was founded fifteen hundred and 
three years ago. The display of ancient paintings along the 
sides and ends of the nave is wonderful ; the vault over the 
Tribune, back of the High Altar, has very ancient mosaics. 
About the High Altar are four Corinthian columns of red 
porphyry. The great attraction, however, is the Borghese 
Chapel, said to be the richest chapel in the world. The 
altar of the Virgin in it has four fluted columns of oriental 
jasper, all kinds of marbles, rich and antique, and many 
kinds of precious stones. Ornament is exhausted in this 
chapel. We saw here a miraculous painting of the Virgin, 
said to have been painted by St. Luke. The tombs in this 
chapel of the Borghese family, and that of Sixtus V., in 
another chapel, are of extraordinary splendor. The nave 
of this church is two hundred and eighty feet long. 

From this we drove to the Church of St. Peter in Yincoli, 
so called because it contains a portion of the chain with 
which St. Peter was bound. This is shown to the people 
only on rare occasions. It is in the usual form of a Latin 
cross, with low rows of antique, fluted columns along the 
aisles. It contains the powerful and most impressive statue 
'^ Moses," by Michael Angelo, regarded as one of his great- 
est works. The statue is sitting, and the expression of 
lofty, commanding intelligence in the face, is most remark- 
able. In the cloisters adjoining the church, which are 
formed out of some ancient ruins, we saw Guido Eeni's 
most lovely painting, called '' Hope," represented by a beau- 
tiful woman : one of those paintings at which the heart 
gazes as well as the eye. There is a pensive looking for- 
ward in this picture — a leaping over the troubles of the 
present into the future, which is enchanting. There is also 
here a very fine and impressive painting by Domenichino, 
the angel liberating Peter. 



424 FOEUM OF TEA JAN. 

The Catholic churches are open all day, except, generally, 
from twelve to three ; there are persons nearly all times in 
them praying; priests at all times, who, for a small fee, 
unlock the doors of the side chapels, or cloisters, or unvail 
the celebrated paintings, and demean themselves toward 
strangers with politeness. Old beggars are, in general, 
.around the entrances, beseeching, you, in the name of vari- 
ous saints, for alms. 

Returning toward our hotel, we passed through ancient 
streets, in different parts of which stood ancient columns, 
crumbling ruins, half buried, mournful in their mutilated 
sculpture. Then we came upon the excavated Forum of 
Trajan, several feet below the present surface, with its 
broken pillars and its strange, voiceless, but eloquent deso- 
lation. The Forums appear to have been places of public 
resort, adorned with lofty and elegant columns, libraries, 
where the people met, conversed, promenaded, heard ora- 
tions — a kind of elegant lounge among choice treasures of 
art. They were built by various Roman Emperors, as a 
kind of compliment to the people, to commemorate their 
reigns and display their taste in the fine arts. Much of this 
one is excavated ; but a third of the space occupied by it is 
supposed to be under the adjoining streets and houses. The 
original height of the gray granite columns was about fifty- 
five feet. The column of Trajan, which has stood unbroken 
for seventeen centuries, stands near the Forum. It is re- 
garded as the most beautiful historical column in the world, 
and has been the model of innumerable others: that of 
Napoleon, in the Place Yendome in Paris, is merely an imi- 
tation. It is a column composed of thirty-four blocks of 
white marble, is one hundred and twenty-seven feet high, 
and has sculptured on it twenty-five hundred human 
figures, besides many horses and fortresses, all representing 
the victories of Trajan, who extended the Roman Empire 
beyond any previous limits. Trajan, returning from his 



ROMAN" CHURCHES. 425 

wars, died on the way, and never saw it completed. His 
aslies, placed in a golden urn, were deposited under the 
column. The figures are sculptured in bas relief. Sixtus 
Y., the Pope who undertook the conversion of all the 
obelisks and ancient columns of Eome, converted this one 
also, and had it surmounted by the statue of St. Peter in- 
stead of the Roman Emperor. The columns of granite 
standing around were broken very irregularly ; some are 
yet fifteen or twenty feet high, others only two or three feet, 
others higher. This Forum was finished A. D. 114. After 
this we drove by the beautiful fountain di Trevi, the water 
falling over artificial rocks. Many priests were seen in the 
course of our day's sight-seeing. They were almost as 
numerous as the beggars. They wear long black cloaks, 
broad black hats ; and you may see, occasionally, extremely 
black negroes walking side by side with white priests — in- 
tended for missionaries in Africa — the Universal Roman 
Church making no distinction of color. Many Cardinals 
are seen riding in their red carriages, or on horseback — 
some hideous and ugly-looking. Antonelli, the Pope's 
prime minister, ought to take the premium for ugliness. 
They are attended by servants in red livery, and their rank 
is that of princes. Many processions of various kinds are 
seen, monks in coarse clothing and sandal-shod priests in 
white blankets and costumes denoting their order; also, 
processions of boys, who are being educated for priests. 
Catholicism has succeeded and failed, or it has failed by suc- 
cess. No success over heart, head, here and hereafter, was 
ever so complete. Yet its success is the failure of all free- 
dom and prosperity, and the establishment of a spiritual 
tyranny. 

This morning, January 8th, I visited the church Santa 
Trinita de Monti. It is on Monte Pincio. You ascend by 
one of the most beautiful stairways of stone in the world, 
consisting of more than one hundred steps. In part of the 

2l2 



426 EOMAN CHUEOHES. 

oTiurch and convent is one of the Egyptian obelisks, of 
wliich there are so many in Eome. This one is of red 
granite, with hieroglyphics. It is on a pedestal, and the 
height of the whole from the ground is nearly one hundred 
feet. Nearly all of these obelisks stood in ancient Eome, 
but during the middle ages had fallen down, and were im- 
bedded in the mud, until they were re-erected within the 
last two or three hundred years. I was admitted through 
a side door into the church by a mild, gentle-faced man. 
There are some very fine paintings here — one, a Deposition 
from the Cross, by Daniel da Yolterra, assisted by Michael 
Angelo, regarded by some as the, third greatest painting in 
the world, being surpassed but by two others. It looks 
very old, and is somewhat injured ; but the persons seem 
almost like statuary, and all show the magnificence and 
power of great genius. It is a fresco. There are some 
other fine paintings here — one a Madonna in the pre- 
Eaphael style, that is truly lovely, sinless and holy — one 
of those creations on which we love to dwell, till our heart 
gives life and humanity to the creation. The nuns devote 
themselves to the education of girls, whose voices are most 
sweet when blended with the oi^gan, and the music is of 
the best style. Here a series of sermons, in almost all 
languages, are delivered on each day in a different lan- 
guage. This is to show the universality of the Catholic 
religion. The church is internally a most splendid one, 
and on the altar were statues dressed and representing the 
Virgin and Child, and the three Wise Men of the East and 
the Star above, all scenic and well represented. The 
preacher, who was from Nova Scotia, expatiated in English 
on the abuses resulting from private interpretation of the 
Scriptures, much, as I suppose he thought, to the edifica- 
tion of the Protestants who formed a considerable part of 
the audience. The Bible, with the Catholic interpretation 
of it annexed, is the way they receive the Scriptures ; in 



KOMAN CHUECHES. 427 

wiiicli respect they are not singular, since many Protestant 
sects I'eceive it as expounded by their various creeds. 

The sufferings and trials of the Virgin Mary were much 
enlarged on, so as to arouse our sympathy and concern, 
and indeed a very pretty case can be made out of it. This 
is their favorite subject. 

" They turn from grizzly saints and martyrs hairy, 
To the sweet portraits of the Virgin Mary." 

Conversions, as they call them, rather perversions, are 
said to be numerous at Eome from the Protestant faith. 
In general, Catholics are well instructed by the priests in 
the polemics of their faith, and they can argue better than 
most Protestants. Their course of argument is most insid- 
ious and dangerous, and really they make the idea of the 
'' Holy Apostolic Catholic Church," with its antiquity, its 
long array of Popes, and its brilliant history, and the self- 
denial of its priests and nuns, a very imposing thing. It 
has so much, of what appeals directly to the senses in its 
traditions and relics, that it is difficult to see how, by the 
ordinary laws of the human mind, one who is educated in 
it can be otherwise than Catholic or infidel. Those who do 
not think are the former — those who do are the latter. 
Protestantism is regarded as a kind of modern, vulgar 
humbug, gotten up by a renegade priest, and is hardly 
thought to be respectable. Little is known of the various 
sects of Protestantism, who are generally considered as all 
Lutherans and Episcopalians. The number of Protestants 
living in Eome, this does not include travelers, is two hun- 
dred and sixty-three. The Jews are nearly ten thousand. 
The rest, about one hundred and eighty thousand, are Cath- 
olics. After the exhilarating exposition of the error of 
attempting to interpret the Scriptures for one's-self, I pro- 
ceeded to the stately palace of Prince Spada, where, in a 
lofty old hall, I saw the gigantic statue (nine feet high) of 



428 ST. Peter's. 

Pompey tlae Great, generally admitted to be tlie one at the 
base of which Julius Ceesar fell. It is of Parian marble, 
and the attitude, gesture, and expression, are most imperial. 
The left hand grasps a globe. It was dug out of the ruins. 
The picture gallery here contains some very fine works, 
though underrated by Murray, in his excellent Gruide Book. 
A painting of Jesus Disputing in the Temple struck me as 
very good: a grand, earnest, and noble face is given to 
the Saviour. There is one of Dido on the funeral pyre of 
her husband, that is very fine. From this I wandered 
through Rome. The city does not improve any of course. 
There are restorations, frescoes are cleaned, churches kept 
up, pictures restored, some ruins dug out, but few houses 
are built. Then I crossed the bridge of St. Angelo, built 
by the Emperor Hadrian, as a passage to his mausoleum 
on the other side of the Tiber, now a strong French for- 
tress, from which there is a covered way to the Pope's pal- 
ace, by which he can secretly escape to the fortress. I then 
spent some hours in St. Peter's. This church impresses 
one greatly on account of its vast size. Persons appear 
like pigmies when seen from opposite ends of the church. 
The letters around the vault of the dome are six feet long, 
but appear not more than five inches. They are in Latin. 
" Thou art Peter, and on this rock I will build my church. 
I give to thee the keys of the kingdom of Heaven." The 
Evangelists are represented in mosaic,, and appear of the 
ordinary size, though the pen in St. Mark's hand is six 
feet long. There are confessionals in every living language 
in St. Peter's — no matter of what nation a person may be, 
he can find a ghostly father here able to receive his confes- 
sion in his native tongue. They sit on the confession 
boxes, and some have long wands in their hands, by which 
they touch those kneeling in front, and give them spiritual 
benefit. The women confess much more frequently than 
the men. All must confess however occasionally, since the 



ST. petek's. 429 

neglect of it involves tlie loss of their civil rights if per- 
sisted in. There is one confessional in which a Cardinal 
sits once a week, with authority from the Pope to pardon 
great offenses, which no ordinary priest can forgive. St. 
Peter's, like three other churches in Kome, has a holy door, 
by which in years of jubilee persons may go in, but never 
come out. If is walled up during the intervening years. 
The temperature of St. Peter's undergoes no change, per- 
haps on account of its vast size. In summer, it is cool and 
pleasant — in winter, warm and delightful. Few or no Cath- 
olic churches that I have seen have fire-places, stoves, or 
seats. You must kneel or stand, and if cold must shudder 
through your devotions if you intend any. In some places 
there are chairs, which are occasionally put into the aisles 
of the church. The absence of seats or pews enables one to 
see the fine marbles and mosaics of the floor, the tombs, etc., 
besides rendering church-going not quite so luxurious a 
thing as in some Protestant churches. In St. Peter's there 
are mosaic representations of most of the great paintings 
of Italy. Oil paintings and frescoes both fade, but mosaics 
are immortal, as many remaining from old Eoman times 
prove. The Florentine mosaic is the best and most valu- 
able, consisting of real stoiies or gems of various colors, 
set in so as to make the picture; the Eoman, of which 
these in St. Peter's are formed, consists of small pieces, va- 
riously colored with a composition prepared not much 
unlike glass. Standing at the proper distance, it is impos- 
sible to tell them from oil paintings. There is but one oil 
painting in St. Peter's. Besides a piece of the true cross 
found by the Empress mother of Constantine, St. Helena, 
on Mount Calvary, the head of St, Andrew, and pictures 
of St. Peter and St. Paul, this church has the handker- 
chief, retaining the impression of the Saviour's face, on 
which he wiped his brow, when ascending Mount Calvary: 
this is exhibited on certain occasions. Some of the Catholic 



4:80 THE BAMBINO. 

legends are beautiful. One about the cross is as follows. 
Adam, when about dying, being sunk in deep remorse on 
account of the disaster brought on the human race by him- 
self, dispatched Seth, his son, to implore the Cherubim 
guarding the entrance to the tree of life in Paradise, to give 
him some of the fruit to renew his life. The angels denied 
the request; but breaking off a small twig from the tree 
he threw it over the walls of Eden, informing Seth that 
when that branch had fruit his father would recover. Seth 
returning found Adam dead ; he however planted the twig, 
and it grew to be a vast tree. After various occurrences, it 
was cut down by order of Solomon to make a bridge over 
an approach to the Temple, by which the Queen of Sheba 
was to pass on her visit to him. When passing over it she 
had a vision, which revealed to her that when that wood 
ran blood, Jerusalem would be destroyed; which, when 
Solomon hearing, he ordered the wood to be thrown into 
the Dead Sea. Ages passed, when by some convulsion of 
nature the wood was thrown near the foot of Calvary, and 
the persons making the Cross of Jesus Christ finding no 
other wood convenient, appropriated it for that purpose. 
Thus it ran blood, and from it the Second Adam revived — 
Christ being its fruit. 

The Bambino ceremonies, which took place at the various 
churches on the 6th inst., attracted much attention. The 
Bambino consists of an ugly-looking, scared babe, carved 
out of an olive tree, from Jerusalem, which St. Luke, kindly 
appearing, painted while the artist was taking a nap. It is 
carried about in procession by a company of priests, and 
attended by a band of soldiers with music, the people kneel- 
ing, and esteeming it a great happiness to get a glimpse of 
it. It looks most extremely like gross idolatry. The 
Bambino goes about in a carriage, to visit women in labor, 
and performs many splendid cures. 

This morning, January 11th, we are out again over the 



EUmS OF EOME. 431 

sigTits of Eome. The air is rich and delicious. Yesterday 
we suspended sight-seeing. I went to the Palazza Braschi, 
the residence of the American minister, where, in a room in 
that spacious palace, the Presbyterian service is performed 
every Sunday — the minister kindly inviting all Americans 
to come ; the seats are free, and there is not a word said in 
reference to a panl as pay, preparatory to a preach. Pro- 
testants are not allowed a meeting-house in Eome. On 
Sunday evening, the great resort in Eome is the Pincian 
Hill. A first-rate band of music performs here, splendid 
carriages and fine horses are seen, and the whole population 
of Eome are out, enjoying the scene and the sunlight, the 
mirth and the music. It is melancholy in its mirth, how- 
ever, when one thinks of the powerful and mighty empire, 
that has passed away, beneath our feet, whose inhabitants, 
two thousand years ago, enjoyed the same scene that we do 
now. Our party of eight or nine, this morning (Monday), 
with our guide, rode rapidly through the streets of Eome. 
The streets are all narrow, and without foot pavements. 
Here we stop at a huge, four-sided marble superstructure — 
the Temple of Janus Quadrifons — possessing the solid and 
time-enduring attributes of a Eoman structure. It is sup- 
posed to have stood at the junction of four different streets 
in old Eome; the streets, with their population, have all 
passed away, but it remains. Each front is fifty-four feet 
long, and about forty high, and the four principal arcades 
are surrounded by numerous blind arches, etc., and the 
whole ruin is tree and shrub and moss-grown. Opposite 
are the remains of another temple, with sculptured bas re- 
liefs on it, and then through a long, narrow, dirty lane of 
walls and houses, we descend to works still more ancient — 
the Cloaca Maxima, or great ditch, constructed by Tar- 
quinius, King of Eome, more than twenty-four centuries 
ago. It still serves as the sewer, or drain of Eome, as it 
has done through almost half of all time. It is a subter- 



432 RUINS OF ROME. 

ranean, covered arch, terminating in the Tiber, composed of 
massive stones, without cement, and its antiquity and 
identity have never been doubted. Many of the stones of 
the arch are five or six feet in length, and two or three feet 
thick. About these temples and great works are very 
mean, modern Roman buildings, and mean-looking Romans 
at work. There is a stream of fresh, clear water near this, 
where Castor and Pollux, the demigods, watered their 
horses, after assisting the Romans in some battle of old. 
Here Roman women were washing clothes. We then stood 
on a bridge over the Tiber, and saw the mouth of the 
Cloaca Maxima, the yellow, golden river flowing near by 
mean houses and scenes, instead of the temples and palaces 
of yore. Near this is, however, the beautiful little Temple 
of Vesta. It is circular, and surrounded by twenty beauti- 
ful Corinthian columns of Parian marble; the height of the 
columns is thirty -two feet ; the roof and other portions are 
modern. But little remains of the ancient building, except 
the columns, one only of which is lost. It is now a chapel. 
The remains of the Temple of Fortune, now incorporated 
into a church, stand on a recently excavated basement, and 
have a number of beautiful Ionic columns. Passing along 
the base of the Palatine Hill, with the ruins of the Palace 
of the Csesars on our left, and the site of the Circus Maxi- 
mus on our right, we came upon portions of the old Appian 
"Way, on parts of which we saw the Roman paving above 
ground. This way was, in old days, lined with stately 
tombs. We soon came to the Tomb of the Scipios, discov- 
ered some years since in excavating for a wine cellar. We 
descended, with lighted torches, some distance down into 
the ground. There are numerous windings and caverns 
deep in the ground, formed out of the volcanic rock, and 
we saw the niches where the urns were, containing the ashes 
of this most renowned family, the inscriptions over the 
places where the stone cof&ns and sculptured sarcophagi 



VIA APPIA. 433 

« 

had been; they are now removed to the Vatican Museum. 
All was gloomy and dark here^ as a fit shrine of departed 
greatness. When we had threaded the avenues of these 
celebrated tombs, which are twenty -three centuries old, and 
paid the grim tomb-keeper, we returned to the light of day 
and pursued our cou.rse. The road on one side was skirted 
with ruins ; the marble of the temples and the gray columns 
was all gone, but the foundations of the buildings, those 
things which could not be destroyed, and which time could 
not devour, stood proud, lonely, but enduring in their age, 
partaking not of the transitoriness of even the Eoman Em- 
pire. We soon came to the Triumphal Arch of Drusus, 
standing almost entire in its age and grandeur, a thing 
Eoman and renowned. Drusus was the father of the Em- 
peror Claudius. It is a single arch, very high and overrun 
with. Italian ivy. Its age is about seventeen hundred and 
fifty years. We now passed outside the walls of Rome by 
the Porta Santa Sebastiana, or gateway Sebastian, and were 
on the Campagna. The present walls of Rome are, in gen- 
eral, those built by Aurelian, sixteen hundred years ago. 
They are generally of Roman brick, are fifty feet high on 
the outside, and have nearly three hundred towers. There 
are twenty gates in all, but at present seven are walled up. 
The portions belonging to the imperial times, consisting of 
walls somev/hat like net-work, patches made by Belisarius 
and the Popes are also seen. The wall makes many angles 
in its course. We were now on the Yia Appia, or Appian, 
which once extended to all the eastern and southern posses- 
sions of the Romans in Italv. Until within the last few 
years it had been confounded with the Campagna, and its 
ancient course only known by the ruins of tombs; the 
paving was many feet below the present surface, but of late 
years a number of miles of the way has been cleared out. 
The earth itself rose against the Roman ruins, and wanted 
to hide them. We passed various ruins of tombs ; there 
28 2 m 



434 CATACOMBS OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 

were no cheerful dwelling-liouses, no country seats to greet 
us, no orchards, nothing but the Campagna of Kome— the 
seared, world-blighted Campagna, scorched and scathed by 
war in all ages, till it had grown superannuated before the 
world would cease. Its surface is irregular, and without 
trees or fences or hedges. We came to a church erected on 
the spot where St. Peter, fleeing from Rome to escape mar- 
tyrdom, met the Saviour, and asking him, '^Lord, whither 
goest thou?" received for answer, "To Rome, to be cruci- 
fied the second time !" upon which Peter, gathering courage, 
returned to the city, and submitted to a crown of martyr- 
dom. The Saviour imprinted his feet on the solid slab of 
black lava stone on which he stood. We were shown the 
fac simile of the original. Along here we come upon the 
City of the Sleepers — the places of the ambitious dead — the 
weary, nameless, brick monuments, erected to contain the 
ashes of unimmortal dead. But who could tell what is, or 
is not. Is that shapeless heap of brick, denuded of orna- 
ment, fresco, and marble, the tomb of Geta? Another 
place is claimed as the Columbaria of Augustus, where, in 
brick holes (not unlike dovecotes, whence the Latin name is 
derived), the ashes of the freedmen of x\ugustus were de- 
posited in urns — the family burying-ground of the Roman 
emperors. Nothing is more melancholy than perished 
greatness — than the ruins of an empire. We now come to 
the Basilica, or church of St. Sebastian, founded by Con- 
stantino fifteen hundred and thirty years ago, underneath 
which we, taking an old priest as guide, he giving to each 
a torch, descended to the great Catacombs, which are under- 
ground passages, gloomy caves, caverns, and corridors in 
the volcanic rock, and passing under the city of Rome 
itself, and even as far as the Mediterranean — having open 
ings at various places in the city, under churches, and in 
the Campagna — the whole forming a subterraneous Rome. 
These passages were originally excavated, it is said, to pro- 



CATACOMBS OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 435 

cure a peculiar species of volcanic ashes, called pozzuloni, 
which, in conjunction with lime, formed that cement which 
has contributed to render the Roman work almost imperish- 
able. Afterward, they became, when abandoned, the resorts 
of robbers, and in times of great persecutions of the early 
Christians, they hid here during the day, and brought the 
bodies of those who had suffered martyrdom. The early 
Christians believing in the resurrection of the identical 
body, did not burn the remains as the Romans did. The 
bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul were originally buried in the 
Catacombs of the Vatican. When Kero was about to erect 
a circus over that place, they were then removed to the 
Catacombs of St. Calisto, connected with those which we, 
at present, entered — the entrance to them being a few hun- 
dred yards nearer Rome. Descending under the church, 
we went down a great number of narrow steps in the vol- 
canic rock, the monk preceding, the ladies growing a little 
paler as the air became heavier and more sepulchral, and 
the number of windings increased, so that in a few moments 
it would have been utterly impossible for any of the party 
to have found the way out. The monk showed us the 
niches in the walls for the bodies, which were generally 
walled up and covered .with cement, with some mystic 
symbol — the Greek letters representing Christ, the palm 
branch indicating martyrdom ; the instruments of torture 
by which they were put to death, were also found here. In 
some places large rooms appear to have been excavated, 
and here, the monk said, the early Christians assembled to 
sing and pray, as in a church, seventeen hundred and twenty 
years ago — that being about the time when the most vio- 
lent persecutions raged, when they were smeared over with 
combustible substances, half buried in the ground, and set 
on fire to light Nero's gardens with. What fearful and 
tearful meetings must have been held here, when the braver 
ones returned, bearing the mutilated corpse of some one 



436 CATACOMBS OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 

who had died triumphantlj and gloriously in the faith. 
How, while the flesh grew weak at the sight, the spirit was 
strengthened! What joy and hope grew out of the grave 
of sorrow ! and they were more happy than Kero in his 
golden house. In some rooms were the burial-places of an 
entire family — husband, wife, and several children. The 
word " Martyr " was inscribed on some slabs. Most of the 
inscriptions here now are only copies, the real ones having 
been removed to the Yatican Palace, where I saw many of 
them. The old monk asserted that seventy-four thousand 
persons had been buried here. He showed us where the 
remains of St. Sebastian were found, who was shot to death 
with arrows ; they are now buried under the High Altar in 
the church. The air here was stifling and sepulchral. We 
could hear the carriages rolling along on the Yia Appia, 
over our heads. Persons have been lost in these Catacombs, 
and the guide told an awful story of a teacher, and a school 
of thirty children, who had ventured in without guides, and 
all perished — the tortuous nature of the route soon con- 
fusing the mind. The old monk, however, said he could go 
many miles through them without lights, and not lose his 
way. The return to the light of day was pleasant. In the 
church, we saw some of the arrows with which St. Sebastian 
was put to death ; also, the original stone on which the im- 
pression of the Saviour's feet was made, and other relics, 
all of w^hich we, as Protestants, doubted extremely. 

Eesuming our route, we visited strange and extensive 
ruins on the Campagna, called the Circus of Maxentius, and 
the Tomb of Eomulus. There are mighty ruins strewn 
over the Campagna, consisting of brick walls and the foun- 
dations of stately palaces. The circus is fifteen hundred 
and eighty feet long, and two hundred and sixty in breadth, 
constructed of brick and small stones. The balcony where 
the Emperor sat to view the races, is yet seen. Obelisks 
stand here, and many works of art. From some of these 



TOMB OF CECILIA METELLA. 437 

points, the view embraces miles of Koman ruins, remnants 
of huge, arched aqueducts. Eeturning, we visited the so- 
called Temple of Bacchus, now a Catholic church. There 
are some paintings here of the eleventh century. In front 
are four white marble columns, of the Corinthian, order. 
Near this we saw a most beautiful grove of live oaks, called 
the Sacred Wood, which is the only cheerful, living feature 
almost in this horizon of ruins. Near this we visited the 
reputed fountain and grotto of Egeria, where Numa, the 
second King of Eome, held nightly consultations with the 
wise counsellor-goddess. It is an artificial vaulted cham- 
ber, hollowed out of a steep bank ; there are niches for the 
divinities. It is partly in ruins, and there is a small foun- 
tain whose waters precipitate themselves into a bath. The 
waters are reputed as medicinal. The walls have been 
clothed with slabs of marble ; the ruins are covered with 
moss and evergreen plants, hanging down. The distinctive 
character of the Campagna is here clearly seen. It looks 
like an accursed present grieving over a glorious past. It 
is a very irregular level, having numerous holes and caves, 
leading, no one knows where — catacombs of dead men's 
bones below, and ruins of palaces above. We now visited 
the fortress-like tomb of Cecilia . Metella, on the Appian 
Way, about two-and-a-half miles from Rome. It looks like 
a once strongly fortified, now dismantled castle. It is nine- 
teen centuries old. Within, all is in ruins, but the strong 
outside circular walls remain. It has a simple inscription 
on a marble slab, "To Cecilia," daughter of some one, wife 
of some one. The tower is circular, resting on a quad- 
rangular basement, and is seventy feet in diameter. The 
upper parts had fallen down, but when it was changed into 
a fortress, were replaced by battlements. Few travelers see 
this remarkable monument, without experiencing a singular 
sympathy for the strange and unknown Cecilia, whose ashes 
were placed in this, the most beautiful sepulchral monu- 

2 M 2 



488 FARNESIAN PALACE. 

ment in the world. A marble sarcopbagus vv-as found here 
many ages ago, in a small vaulted apartment, surrounded 
with walls of great thickness, in the interior of the monn- 
ment. A golden nrn, containing the ashes, was in it ; this 
latter has long since disappeared. She is said to have been 
the wife of Crassus, the wealthiest of the Romans, who 
perished miserably in a war against the Parthian s. The 
tomb is a very conspicuous object along this road of ruins. 
It rests on a wall of lava, strengthened with large stones. 
Some ivy has covered a part of it. It is probably eighty 
feet high. Here the Roman paving of the Via Appia is 
very distinctly seen. "We pursued the route for some dis- 
tance, then returned toward the city ; on our return, visit- 
ing the house of Rienzi, the great Roman Tribune of five 
hundred years ago, the destroyer of the ancient nobility of 
the country, and who secured, for a brief period, something 
like popular Roman liberty. We then stood on the Ponte 
Rotte, one of the bridges over the Tiber — ruins of temples 
visible all around — the yellow, careless river flowing be- 
neath as in ages ago, when Rome was in its youth, and 
thirst for empire had every gratification. The miserable, 
modern city was full in view above, and the island in the 
Tiber, shaped like a vessel, with its churches — the ancient 
glorious, but the present desolate. To our hotel, then, with 
our heads full of ruins. 

To-day, January 7th, our party start again with our 
Cicerone. We first visited the palace of the Corsini family 
beyond the Tiber. There is a fine collection of paintings 
here — some most beautiful ones by Carlo Dolce and Murillo. 
There is a most beautiful marble sarcophagus here, with 
sculpture on it in bas relief. Opposite to this is the Farne- 
sian Palace, which contains some beautiful frescoes by Ra- 
phael. These palaces are not inhabited, except by servants. 
They belong to the King of Naples. The latter palace is a 
melancholy place. The frescoes of Raphael are left in 



BATHS OF TITUS. 439 

damp and decay. The Galatea, one of his finest produc- 
tions, is here. She is represented in her shell, drawn by 
dolphins. There is a strange, active, livingness in the face 
and form of Gralatea. From this we revisited the Strada 
Palace, on the other side of the Tiber, where we reside — 
saw again the great statue of Pompey, and some other an- 
cient but most broken statuary, many of which are aflfect- 
ingly powerful in their age, their mutilation, and their 
mystery. From this place we returned to the ruins, these 
last places being amongst modern houses and squares, 
though on the ground occupied by the ancient city. "We 
entered the long and immense corridors and vaulted apart- 
ments of the Baths of Titus. All here was Koman and 
imperial. They are on the Esquiline Hill, not far from 
the Coliseum. The baths were stately, kingly residences. 
These covered an area of eleven hundred and fifty feet by 
eight hundred and fifty. They were built on the ruins of 
the palace of Nero's Golden House — the latter being built 
on the ruins of the palace of Maecenas, the prime minister 
of Augustus. We saw on the high ceilings and on the 
walls, by the light of the lamp, elevated on a long pole by 
the conductor, the frescoes and paintings of the ancient 
Eomans, still preserving their colors, though, until recently, 
buried under the accumulations and rubbish of centuries. 
The mosaic pavement of the house of Maecenas is yet visi- 
ble. It is out of these extensive and yet only half exca- 
vated ruins that many of the valuable antique statues of the 
Museums have been dug. Further excavations will reveal, 
doubtless, several new discoveries. The French have exca- 
vated many of these chambers. The improvements of 
Rome consist in penetrating into the ruins of ancient build- 
ings. It appears that Titus, who was the conqueror of 
Jerusalem, and reigned only two years, had these buildings 
constructed in haste, and that he threw down the Golden 
House of Nero and other buildings, whose anterior ruins 



440 MICHAEL ANGELO'S LAST JUDGMENT. 

are now "brought to light. The paintings consist of animals 
and flowers in arabesque, of the most graceful and beau- 
tiful outlines. We went through numerous half-excavated 
halls ; and few places have impressed me so much with the 
grandeur and power of old Rome. From this our guide 
took us to the Academy of St. Luke, or Academy of Fine 
Arts. There are paintings here by Titian, Raphael, Guido, 
Yandyke, Poussin, and other great masters — some of them 
nude, and formerly reserved in the Secret Cabinet. 

To-day, January 13th, we revisited the Vatican Palace. 
The day was cool and clear, without being frosty. At such. 
a time the old historical city, but especially the piazza in 
front of St. Peter's, is most beautiful — the stately and im- 
mense, but irregularly built Vatican Palace ; the two glo- 
rious fountains, which are like upward cataracts ; the noble 
avenue of columns, inclosing two sides of the piazza, and 
supporting arches, on which are probably, on each side, 
fifty statues; then the unquestionably ancient Egyptian 
obelisks, eighty -three feet high, elevated on the backs of 
four marble lions, which rest on a lofty pedestal ; the col- 
umn, with its aged, granite, Egyptian appearance, despite 
its being "purged from an impure superstition" by the 
Pope, as an inscription on it states; then the great St. Peter's, 
fronting all, with its saints, angels, and martyrs in marble, 
on its lofty faQade — its two large statues of St. Peter and 
St. Paul, near the beautiful and gradual ascent to the 
church — its grand vestibule, and the marble interior, lofty 
and large — and though not the product of any one mind, or 
the result of any continued plan, yet is imposing, impressive 
and rich in gilding, mosaics, and marbles, and general eflect 
beyond description. We visited to-day the Sistine in the 
Vatican, the Pope's private chapel. It is not large, but 
very lofty; and the sides, and ceilings, and ends are covered 
with celebrated frescoe paintings. Among them, at one 
end, is the greatest of all frescoes, sixty feet long by thirty 



MICHAEL ANGELO'S LAST JLJUGMENT. 4-11 

broad, the work of seven years of Michael Angelo's life — 
the "Last Judgment" — a painting often criticized, and in 
some respects unsuited. to the taste of the present age, yet 
full of living and remarkable power. The position and 
gestures of the Saviour are probably not commanding and 
dignified. There appears too much mere power, without 
majesty. There is not the awfully merciful and great face 
of Leonardo da Yinci. The introduction of Charon and 
his boat, and other specialties, might have been avoided. 
Michael Angelo seems to have taken Dante and certain 
heathen writers as better delineators of the Last Judgment 
than the inspired writers. It is a congeries of too many 
ideas for the simply grand. It is nearly three hundred and 
twenty years old. Parts have peeled off; the smoke of the 
candles and the incense have blackened parts of it, and 
fastidious Popes have employed inferior artists to drape the 
nude figures ; the air and light are absorbing the colors : 
yet it is probably the best fresco painting in the world ; and 
it appears in the dim light of the Sistine Chapel like a tre- 
mendous, portending, approaching shadow of the future. 
The persons stand out almost like sculpture ; and there is a 
wonderful solemnity in the whole scene which grows on 
one and draws one with it. The Judge is in the act of say- 
ing, ''Depart ye cursed," to the wicked below,, on his left 
hand, who rise from the dead begirt with flames, and 
entwined with the folds of serpents, and with demons grasp- 
ing them. They descend, with faces of unutterable woe and 
voiceless despaii*, to the mouth of an nnreturning hell. 
Above, on the left, are the martyrs, with their instruments 
of martyrdom, presenting them in awful fear to the Judge. 
The unpitying Judge has the compassionate Virgin by his 
side. On his right are angels blowing the last trumpets 
and opening the Book of Life. Below, on the right, are 
the righteous rising from the dead in the embrace of angels, 
and with their first glance on the face of the Judge. 



442 THE VATICAN MUSEUM. 

From this we walked to that great resurrection-to-life-agaia 
of ancient art, the Vatican Museum, where inscriptions 
from Christian catacombs and Roman tombs, sarcophagi 
and mummies from Egypt, four thousend years old, Greek 
and Roman statuary exhumed from the ruins of temples, 
baths and palaces, are around you, almost alive with dead 
genius. The Gallery of Inscriptions, the one first entered, 
is two hundred and thirty yards long, and contains sepul- 
chral inscriptions going back to the times of the earliest 
Fathers of the Church. They also indicate the periods when 
certain things now recognized as matters of faith were in- 
troduced. The Virgin and Child, so common in the middle 
and later ages, does not appear as a composition till near 
the sixth century. The crucifix, and the allusions to it and 
the cross, seem not to have been so common in the very 
early ages as in later times. Adjoining this is another 
Museum, containing over seven hundred specimens of an- 
cient sculpture, in thirty compartments. These consist of 
Roman emperors, orators, gods and historical characters. 
The drapery of these statues is marble ; the perfect oneness 
of expression in some of the faces, and their grand, antique 
dignity, are remarkable. There is a .statue of Demosthenes 
here of ancient Greek workmanship, remarkably dignified, 
and with the Grecian robe in graceful folds over his shoul- 
ders. Many of the floors are of ancient mosaic figures and 
designs restored. Yery many of the statues have lost por- 
tions — some an arm or a nose. In many instances .these 
have been restored by illustrious modern masters. Another 
Museum is then entered, the various rooms having received 
different names, after the Popes by whom they were en- 
riched, or in whose reigns these specimens were found. In 
one place we saw the sarcophagus of Scipio, a most remark- 
able object. The skeleton was found entire when it was 
first opened, two thousand years after the death of Scipio. 
It was found in the Tombs of the Scipios, which we visited 



THE VATICAN MUSEUM. 443 

a day or two ago. Then there are four cabinets around a 
cortile or court, containing by far the most celebrated pieces 
of sculpture that have come from the chisel. I looked at 
the Laocoon — doubtless the finest creation ever drawn out 
of marble — the father and two sons in the deadly folds of 
the serpent. There is the action of passive suffering in it. 
There is no weakness in the father, though there is no 
escape. The serpent, winding his folds around the group, 
and awaking them, seems like an impersonation of relent- 
less Fate, overcoming struggling human will. This group 
stood in the palace of the Emperor Titus, and is described 
by Pliny as superior to all objects whatever of either paint- 
ing or statuary. It is of Greek workmanship. Though 
the subject is not a pleasant one, you can gaze at this till 
you almost partake of its action yourself. 

Then in another cabinet near is the great Apollo Bel- 
videre, a glorious type of manly beauty, the most graceful, 
dignified and perfect human statue in the world. It is also 
a Greek work, probably twenty -three centuries old. You 
can scarcely believe it mortal, but a god just alighting on 
the earth. A slight, lofty, and passionless indignation seems 
on the lips and eye, as if scarcely disturbing the proud, in- 
tellectual serenity. He stands as if looking at a fallen foe, 
whom he had slain not in anger but in justice — not elated, 
but satisfied. People go into raptures and grow enthusias- 
tic over these pieces of sculpture, and no wonder — every 
thing is so extremely life-like and beautiful ; not an atti- 
tude, a gesture, a nerve, a vein, a feature, that is recognized 
as untrue to nature. Then we went into the Hall of the 
Animals — soruQ in flowered alabaster, some in oriental ala- 
baster, some in black or yellow marble : then into the Gal- 
lery of Statues — some by Praxiteles; there are hundreds of 
these of the heroic and godlike times : then into the Hall 
of the Busts of many historical characters of Eoman and 
Grecian times ; of these several hundreds : then into the 



444 THE PANTHEON AND EAPHAEL'S TOMB. 

Hall of the Greek Cross — containing fine Egyptian statues 
of colossal size, in red granite, but chiefly two immense 
sarcophagi of red Egyptian porphyry — one contained the 
ashes of the daughter, the other those of the mother of Con- 
stantine ; these are most splendidly ornamented with high 
has reliefs : then into the Hall of the Biga, or Greek War 
Chariot — horses and harness all cut out of splendid white 
marble — a wonderful work of art. 

To-day, January 14th, our party, attended by our guide — 
who is useful in general merely to show the localities — vis- 
ited first the Pantheon, the temple erected to all the gods, 
by Agrippi, twenty-six years before Christ, the best pre- 
served of all the Roman ruins, which is said to be owing to 
its having been, at an early age, converted into a Catholic 
church, which it now is — the saints ruling where the gods 
reigned. It is a vast rotunda, surmounted with a great 
dome ; the floor is of porphyry and marbles ; much of it is 
broken. The portico is regarded as a master piece of archi- 
tectiire. It is one hundred and ten feet long, and forty- 
four feet deep ; has sixteen Corinthian columns of oriental 
granite, with capitals and bases of white marble. Each 
column is of a single block, and is forty-six feet high and 
five feet in diameter. The building is of Roman brick, 
with numerous blind arches to strengthen it. The door- 
ways are of marble. In the centre of the dome, at the top, 
is a circular opening to the sky, supplying the only light 
the building receives. The rotunda is one hundred and 
forty -three feet in diameter ; the walls are twenty feet thick; 
the height from the pavement to the summit is seventy-two 
feet. The building is well preserved, though so many cen- 
turies old. It, however, wears the blackened and impres- 
sive mantle of time, and seems strangely out of sympathy 
with the buildings around it. The earth, too, has risen 
around it, This region is a great resort of dirty beggars. 
The Pantheon has one attraction, which must ever render it 



Raphael's transfiguration. 445 

remarkable. It is the burial-place of Eapbael. His tomb 
is the third chapel to the left, on entering. He died on hi? 
birth-daj — Good Friday — when thirty-seven years old — 
A. D. 1520 — having achieved the immortality of genius on 
earth at that early age. He is the glory, the ne plus ultra 
of all art ; but Michael Angelo surpassed him in variety of 
genius — being almost as good a painter, the greatest of 
sculptors and architects. Michael Angelo, however, had a 
long life, as he died in his eighty- ninth year. He had more 
power and grandeur and dark energy than Eaphael, who 
has never been equalled in enchanting sweetness, grace, 
softness, and ethereal beauty of expression. There is no 
room in the endowments of humanity to carry the art of 
painting beyond that to which it was carried by Eaphael. 
Eaphael was one of the noblest of mankind. He died, it is 
alleged, by some amorous excess, but most probably from 
exhaustion — his genius exhausted his body. 

After this we proceeded to the Vatican, the great treasure 
house of genius and mind. We went to the gallery of 
paintings, not large — only fifty in all — but most choice. 
We passed through stately halls, and corridors, with fading 
frescoes of rare genius, then into the interior of the build- 
ing, up grand flights of stairs, then through galleries, 
whence extended views of Eome, rich and lovely beyond 
the power of language. We entered the first room of the 
Picture Gallery, where were paintings by Titian, Perugino, 
Eaphael — some on wood, and some very old. We then 
entered the second room, in which are but three paintings, 
but two of them are the first and second paintings, in ex- 
cellence, in the world. We stood before the Transfigura- 
tion, by Eaphael, the last work of this, the greatest of 
masters — the one on which he lavished all the magnificence 
of his genius, and which has, for more than three hundred 
and thirty years, been considered, as a whole, the first paint- 
ing in the world. The works of true genius have a mag- 

2n 



446 eaphael's transfigukation. 

netio, thrilling, and awful effect — as if the dead souls 
lingered there in their embodiment. This is the stamp of 
immortal genius, looking out imperishablj from the canvas. 
The Saviour is represented, surrounded by a glorious efful- 
gence, on the top of Mount Tabor — the Mount of Trans- 
figuration — on one side is Moses, on the other Elias ; they 
are in the air. The three Apostles are on the ground in 
confused positions, as if overwhelmed with the glorious 
appearance. Below, in the vale, are the rest of the Apos- 
tles, essaying, in vain, to cure the possessed with a demon, 
who is held by his father, and is surrounded by his relatives 
and friends, mother and sister, kneeling and beseeching, 
with faith and confidence, the further exertion of their 
power. The DeraoDiac's face is horribly distorted; the 
father's face expresses hopeless and anguished, yet still per- 
severing affection ; the mother is pale with weeping and 
watching, and begs, with unconquerable affection, for her 
son ; the sister is a lovely portraiture of pleading sympathy. 
One in the group of the family has abandoned all hope ; 
others press on, eager to see. Some of the Apostles ex- 
press, in attitude and manner, " We can do nothing !" 
Others point in the direction of the Mount, as if to say, 
"He can!" The whole is wonderful and most subjective. 
Heaven, with its beatitudes — earth, with its affections and 
agonies and solicitudes — and hell, with its horrors and 
devils, are all there. The face of the Saviour expresses a 
noble and compassionate sublimity. It is heaven with the 
duties of earth still struggling. I cannot say I think it 
equal to the face of the Saviour in Leonardo da Vinci's 
painting in Milan. Raphael's has more loftiness and sub- 
limity, but there is also an expression of slight impatience, 
as if to say, '^ faithless and perverse generation, how long 
shall I be with you, and suffer you." Then benevolence 
prevails, and he says, " Bring him hither to me." But Da 
Yinci's is unmixed, wounded, godlike, sublime affection, 



ST. JEROME EECEIVING THE SACRAMENT, AND DYINa. 447 

the regard of a great soul that suffers, but suffers in love. 
We all stood and looked at the solemn and awful painting 
in silence. It is three hundred and twenty-seven years 
old. The coloring is yet most brilliant. It is regarded 
as the world's best effort — the best work of the greatest 
master. 

The verdict of all the great masters who have seen it, 
pronounces it, as a whole, the greatest production ever 
painted on canvas. Sculpture is probably a higher depart- 
ment than oil painting, and fresco painting, like that of 
Michael Angelo's Last Judgment, is regarded as more diffi- 
cult. In these last two, as well as architecture, Michael 
Angelo excelled all men. But one sometimes will turn 
from his grand and cold creations, where energy and intel- 
lect and power predominate, to the sweet humanity — the 
softer affections, the more gentle and endearing influences 
that permeate the divine productions of Eaphael. Having 
seen the best paintings in Europe, I have no hesitation in 
according submission to the opinion, that though parts of 
other paintmgs may be as good as parts of this, even the 
face of the Saviour himself, that this, however, is the best. 
The painting is seen under a good light and to great 
advantage. It is about twenty feet long, and twelve wide. 
By its side is the second best painting in the world — the 
"St. Jerome Keceiving the Sacrament, and Dying" — nearly 
the same size, or larger. Every thing here bears upon the 
principal event — the cherubs above waiting to escort his 
soul, the sorrowing and silent attendants around, the priest 
with the wafer, the old and dying man, whose appearance is 
remarkably striking, and all are distinct-charactered, and 
impressive. It is by Domenichino, who was born A. D. 
1581 — died, it is alleged, by poison, given him by enemies 
jealous of his talents, A. D. 1641. He was a man of great 
amiability, and of excessive timidity and modesty. In the 
same room is Kaphael's Madonna di Foligno, a beautiful 



448 ETRUSCAN MUSEUM. 

painting. In two or three other rooms are several fine and 
celebrated paintings. But what can now please, after hav- 
ing seen the clief ofoeuvre? 

We then visited the Etruscan Museum in the Vatican, 
containing many of the most celebrated remains of those 
singular people who preceded the Komans in Italy. These 
remains occupy no fewer than thirteen chambers. They 
have very numerous remains of terra cotta, or earthenware — 
some of most ingenious designs — vases, coffins of baked 
earth with paintings on them, urns for holding the ashes of 
the dead — some found in ancient tombs in Civita Castellana, 
and Ostia — many of the deities of the Greeks, with stories 
from Homer, articles of kitchen furniture ; also, some gold 
filagaree work, female ornaments, bracelets, ear-rings, which 
are not surpassed, and rarely equalled, in the present day 
for minuteness of work and taste — all these, and an infinity 
of others, the production of a |)eople three thousand years 
ago, and far older than the Eomans. There are, also, 
ancient Koman chariots, a bronze frame on which dead 
bodies were burned, instruments for sacrifice, cups, goblets. 
There are stamped clay pieces, supposed to be Etruscan 
money, a series of idols in black earthenware, and a vast 
number of polished mirrors. Many of these works, as well 
as many old buildings in various parts of Italy, demonstrate 
that three distinct nations — the Pelasgi, the Umbri, and the 
Etruscans — whose works, style of buildings, and manners, 
all differed essentially from each other, inhabited Italy pre- 
vious to the Eomans. They were, probably, colonies from 
Greece or Egypt, and as their existenc'fe is only problemati- 
cal, it may tend to reconcile us to that obscurity Avhich is 
the fate, not only of individuals, but of entire nations. 
The history of these nations is only written in their sepul- 
chral remains, and in the their desolate, earth and moss- 
grown walls. The Roman Empire has swept over Italy, 
and itself decayed, since the then that then was. What is 



THE EGYPTIAN MUSEUM. 449 

sailed the history of the world, is very meager indeed. 
Most of the nations of the world are unknown to history. 
The originators are generally unknown to history. The 
more ancient nations were originators ; the Romans learned 
from the Greeks and Etruscans ; and in London and Paris 
there is but little architecture that is regarded as excellent, 
that is not a copy of some Greek or Roman temple. The 
Gothic style, so well adapted to churches, originated amongst 
a northern nation. 

From this we went into the Egyptian Museum again, 
observing their idols all presenting a grave, singular ap- 
pearance of repose in their style, the mummies, also, four 
thousand years old — a horrid sight. This collection is in 
ten rooms. The specimens of papyrus and Egyptian glass 
are very curious. From this we went into what is called 
the Stanze or Chambers of Raphael, which are four cham- 
bers, the paintings on the walls and ceilings of which were 
executed in fresco by Raphael and his pupils. There one 
is surrounded by the genius of the great master. The sub- 
jects are numerous, but seem generally intended to repre- 
sent the glory of the Church. Some were completed by the 
pupils of Raphael, after his untimely death, from his de- 
signs. Much of the history and m^any of the items of belief 
of the middle ages may here be studied. There are various 
paintings in each room, but the room takes its name from 
the principal painting in it. One represents the burning 
of part of Rome, A. D. 847. There is one representing the 
"Dispute on the Sacrament;" another called ''Philosophy," 
or the " School of Athens ;" another, the " Expulsion of 
Heliodorus from the Temple," a story founded on one of 
the Apocryphal books; another, " St. Leo I. arresting Attila 
at the Gates of Rome." Attila is represented in the midst 
of his cavalry as shrinking at the apparition of St. Peter 
and St. Paul in the heavens. Then there is the " Deliver- 
ance of St. Peter," a remarkable painting, with four lights ; 
29 2 n2 



460 THE VATICAN LIBKARY. 

and tlien fhe "Battle of Constantine and Maxentius," a 
fierce and energetic representation of a battle. You can 
scarcely believe that the action is not going on before your 
eyes, so furious seem the combatants. The style of Michael 
Angelo appears to be infused into some of these paintings. 
The Vatican is of sach immense size that some rooms and 
even chapels have been lost in it ; that is, remained un- 
known for many years, till accidentally discovered again. 
Scarcely any place in it, however, wonderful as are its col- 
lections, is more interesting than these Chambers of Eaphael. 
From this we went into the Library of the Yatican, remark- 
able for its valuable manuscripts. The books are not seen, 
being inclosed in presses and receptacles in the centre of 
the vast rooms. One corridor through which we walked is 
two thousand feet long. We saw, in the various rooms, 
many most interesting things — instruments of torture, found 
on the bodies of martyrs in the Catacombs ; paintings in 
fresco, found in old tombs; ancient Byzantine paintings 
on wood ; figures in ivory ; very old and celebrated books ; 
presents from various emperors to the Popes ; the magni- 
ficent vase, or font, in which the present French Prince 
Imperial was christened, a present from Napoleon III. to 
the reigning Pope ; many specimens of works in malachite, 
alabaster, etc. The Yatican Library was formed by the 
donation of the rare and valuable manuscripts and books 
of old monasteries; also, various kings, queens and dukes, 
families and cities in distant countries, have enriched it. 
The collection of Greek, Latin, and Oriental manuscripts 
amounts to twenty-four thousand, being the finest in the 
world. Leo X. sent agents into distant countries to collect 
manuscripts. Some of the manuscripts present examples 
of the erasure of an ancient classic work on parchment in 
order to write a monkish legend on it; but by extreme 
ingenuity the latter has been erased and the former re- 
stored. In one place I saw a fresco of Charlemagne, one 



THE LATERAN MUSEUM. 451 



thousand years old; a celebrated Eoman painting repre- 
senting a marriage, two thousand years old — a remarkably 
expressive work. The Vatican contains, in what are called 
uncial letters, that is letters of large size, the Bible of the 
sixth century, containing the oldest version of the Septua- 
gint and the first version of the Greek New Testament; 
a Yirgil, in capital letters of the fourth century, and many 
other very interesting manuscripts. 

We pursue our investigations through the ruins and 
Museums of Rome. We see the long processions of hooded 
monks and friars; some with black cloaks, probably not 
unlike the toga of their heathen heroic ancestors ; others, 
in red blankets, some in white. Passing by the great Coli- 
seum ruin, we entered the Museum of the Lateran, for one 
thousand years the residence of the Popes, and contiguous 
to the Basilica of St, John Lateran. There are seven Ba- 
silicas in Eome, and each one of them has the privilege of 
according six thousand years' indulgence from the penal 
fires of Purgatory. The Museum is in many stately rooms, 
and contains all sorts of things in the way of old Eoman 
statues, fragments of ornamental columns, bas reliefs on 
baths and mausoleums, sarcophagi, and beautiful marbles, 
busts and statues of Eoman emperors and generals. The 
stories of Niobe and Orestes are in bas reliefs on some of 
the sarcophagi. There appear to be placed here those 
things for which no room is found in the Vatican. There 
are thirteen rooms, many of them most magnificent ones. 
There are two sitting statues of Tiberius and Claudius; 
others of Drusus, Agrippina and Fulvia are erect and draped. 
In the apartments above we saw some elegant paintings ; 
some of them very old, taken out of various churches. 
Some are on wood, and in the Byzantine style, strongly 
suggestive of the peculiar ghostliness of the tenth or eleventh, 
centuries. In one of the rooms we saw the great mosaic 
pavement, found in the Baths of Caracalla, representing the 



452 ASCENT TO THE TOP OF ST. PETEE S. 

boxers of ancieDt times. It is first seen from a passage 
along the wall, several feet elevated above the mosaics. It 
looks, indeed, very striking. The scene around this part of 
the city is Eoman and renowned ; broken and ruined walls 
of aqueducts on high arches are visible for some distance. 
The high obelisk of the Lateran, before that church, the 
largest now known, aged Egyptian, and the reputed oldest 
work of art in the world, is of red granite and covered with 
hieroglyphics. It was elevated by the. Eoman emperors 
fifteen hundred years ago, but during the middle ages fell 
down and was broken into three pieces. With the orna- 
ments and base to the top of the cross it is one hundred and 
forty-nine feet. The weight is said to be four hundred and 
forty-five tons. Eeturning from this we passed by the aged 
and grand Coliseum, saw the immensely large stones of 
which it is built, in base and exterior, and the grasses and 
flowers growing out of the walls, and the open passages and 
arches of the huge ruin. The Catholics have given it the 
idea of a church ; and the souls of the martyred ones in it, 
if they take delight in scenes earthly, may look down now 
and see how they have triumphed where they died. I also 
revisited the hoary, round Pantheon. It is truly impres- 
sive. It is without windows, and presents the appearance 
within of. a vast dome, with pillars of marble at regular dis- 
tances. The niches where the gods sat are now occupied 
by saints. It is a gloomy, old, sad, venerable place. The 
modern houses around these old buildings — the Coliseum, 
the Pantheon and the Eoman Forum — are fifteen or twenty 
feet above the ancient level of the ground. 

But the ascent to the top of St. Peter's. It is one of the 
rich, lovely, blue air days of Italy, (Saturday, January 16th,) 
and our party of nine, accompanied by our guide, having 
procured permits, undertake the ascent— a broad carriage- 
way leading two-thirds of the way up. St. Peter's is always 
warm and pleasant in winter — said to be occasioned by its 



ASCENT TO THE TOP OF ST. PETEE's. 453 

absorbing so much heat in summer as to k^ep it warm all 
winter. The ascent is at first rather easy, being up an in- 
clined plane of brick work, which carries you round and 
round, and thus you ascend the mighty pile. You go up 
some two hundred and fifty feet, when you come to a gal- 
lery around the inside of the dome, from which you can 
look down into the interior of the church. You are now 
near the great mosaics around the inside of the dome, which 
on the pavement of the church appeared of such delicate 
execution and of the size of life, now seem like monsters. 
You ascend perhaps one hundred feet higher to a second 
gallery, when the view down into the church becomes 
almost awful. Persons walking about on the marble floor 
below appear like pigmies. You feel the grandeur of the 
great pile gathering about you like a portion of immensity. 
Rising higher between the double walls of the dome, you 
come at length to an exterior view — one of the most glo- 
rious ever witnessed. I have stood on the high Alps, on 
Mount Rio^hi and the Alle2;hanies, and have seen mountain 
after mountain receding — irregular, wooded, or snowed 
and glaciered over for noteless years ; and I have seen the 
red light of morning come tenderly and inquiringly along 
their giant, awfully chasmed ridges, which lit up at its ap- 
proach like aged want before a benevolent mistress — but 
I stood on St. Peter's, and saw the Eternal City sitting on 
her seven hills, four of them blasted, barren and buried in 
ruins ; the Tiber, the Apennines, the Mediterranean sixteen 
miles oft', the ancient, remarkable, world-weary looking Cam- 
pagna all around. No scene has had such a past as that. 
The Rome that conquered the world sits at your feet like a 
mighty giant, bound hand and foot by the gossamer, yet 
strong web of a majestic superstition. The palaces of 
Rome, the castles, the ruins, the monster ruin the Coliseum, 
are all in view. The semicircle of colonnades on each side 
of the great place before the church, the lovely fountains, 



454 MOSAIC MANUFACTOEY. 

the gray, old, firect pyramid, (tomb of Caius Cestiiis,) and 
Eome's mighty volume of two thousand five hundred years 
of history came into vision , Eeturning to the interior of 
the dome from the outside gallery, in which we had this 
view, we ascended, one by one, by an iron ladder^ to -the 
ball, four hundred and forty feet above the floor. This 
ball, which from below appears scarcely larger than a 
foot-ball, is capable of containing sixteen persons. Some 
climb up to the top of the cross which surmounts the 
church. This we did not do. On our descent we stood on 
the solid stone roof of the church, several acres in superficial 
extent. Here are some houses for the workmen, who keep 
the church in order and repair. It requires one hundred 
persons, all the time engaged, at an expense of thirty 
thousand dollars per annum. There is a fountain on the 
roof, and there are numerous statues, eighteen feet high, 
near the fagade. At last we descended to the church again — 
the beautiful church, with its wealth, and warmth, and 
splendor. What a scene had passed into the soul and been 
imprinted there as one of its imperishables ! Two thousand 
five hundred and five years ago Eomulus, standing on the 
Palatine, and Eemus on the Aventine Hill, derived from 
the flights of birds their prognostics. And now — but Eome 
cannot be said to be no more while St. Peter's Church 
remains ! We then visited the manufactory of mosaics in 
a portion of the Vatican Palace, where we spent some time. 
The workmen have the painting, which they copy in 
mosaic, before them. They break and grind the glass-li:ke 
composition, variously colored, and place them in order, 
and thus gradually build the picture, the pieces varying 
in size and color, as the requirements of the painting- 
demand. Some of the stones, or pieces of glass, are very 
small, others as large as a grain of corn, or larger. Some 
have the color in the composition, others have it painted 
on them. Some paintings require ten years to complete 



ITALY. 455 

them in mosaic. The guide asserted the workmen have 
twenty thousand different tints in the glass. The business 
of copying in mosaic does not require great genius, it is 
merely mechanical. 

It is usual among those travelers who remain some 
time in Eome, to rent furnished lodgings, and have their 
meals brought to them from restaurants which make this an 
especial business. By this means one can secure better 
rooms, more privacy, and have one's meals when, and what 
one wishes. The meals are sent perfectly hot in large tin 
baskets, kept warm by charcoal braziers, at a regular 
hour, and at a fixed price, the dishes being varied each 
day. The meals cost in general about fifty cents to each 
person. We have rooms on one of the principal streets, 
near the Corso and Piazza di Spagna, in an old, ghostly- 
looking stone building, formerly a palace. Our rooms are 
well furnished, and an Italian woman named Eaccali, the 
Italian for Eachel, waits on us. She is from Bologna. 
The landlord and his wife, who are very attentive — the 
latter has the Italian suavity and grace, the former speaks 
French — are both courteous and attractive. I have en- 
gaged an Italian schoolmaster to give me some additional 
lessons in his language, and with whom I can talk about 
his people, and come more in contact with them. He says 
he is descended from the Samnites, who were more an- 
cient than the Eomans, and who, in the early ages of the 
Eepublic, humiliated all Eome, by requiring the Eoman 
army, one hundred and fifty thousand men, whom they 
had entrapped into a disadvantageous position, to pass under 
the yoke, (two swords forming an arch,) an ineffaceable 
mark of disgrace. The Samnites, he says, lived among 
the mountains of the Apennines, and being poor did not 
offer any attractions to the nations and barbarians who 
successively conquered and occupied Italy, and were never 
thoroughly incorporated with the Eoman people, who at 



4:56 ROMAN CHURCHES. 

best were but mighty intruders in Italy among tbe pow- 
erful tribes and nations and distinct communities wlio 
preceded them, and whose domains generally consisted of 
a central city on some inaccessible mountain peak, and a 
few miles of territory, and who lived unprogressively but 
peacefully and poor from age to age. The Eomans were 
the fillibusters of those ages — those mighty, restless spirits 
that change and revolutionize communities, and evoke 
in convulsions the deeper and stronger agencies of the 
human soul. He says the present Italians are not gene- 
rally descended from the Eomans, but rather of the orig- 
inal indigenous nations that preceded them ; that the barba- 
rians who conquered Italy, as well as the Eomans, did their 
due on it and passed away, and made scarcely any perma- 
nent settlement in it, except in Lombardy, where they were 
attracted by the fertility of the soil. The Campagna around 
Eome having been so often conquered and desolated, soon 
became, and remained the desert it now is. 

I have observed with what freedom Americans especi- 
ally are conversed with in Europe. With the people of 
no other country can the middle class find vent for their 
unexpressed ideas about freedom, politics and religion, 
with which their hearts abound. The Americans are well 
thought of in Italy. The Italians know the history of Amer- 
ica sometimes better than that of their own country — 
Carlo Botta, an Italian, having written one of the best his- 
tories of America. He told me they were not allowed, in 
the Pope's dominions, to write and print their lives with- 
out first submitting them to the Inspector or Censor, who 
would make them omit whate%^er he does not like — that 
works on politics or religion are prohibited, the Bible 
being the first on the list. I have not yet seen a Bible in 
the Pope's dominions of any kind, except in the hands of 
English or Americans. He sa3^s there are spies about at 
all times — that he was not sure of sleeping in his bed that 



ROMAN CHUECHES. 457 

night — ttiat at any time the police might knock at his door, 
take him off to prison, where he might remain months 
without knowing what his accusation and who his accus- 
ers were — if at the end of that time he should have a trial, 
and be declared innocent, no compensation would be made 
him for loss of time or health. He said only the ignorant 
in Eome believe in the Catholic religion — that he and many 
others only attend church once a year to keep from being 
suspected — that all this machinery about the Virgin, and 
relics, etc., was worn out — that they did not believe, many 
of the people, in either Catholicism as such or Protestant- 
ism, and that they thought the Pope had no business to be 
their temporal as well as spiritual ruler. Evident it is 
they do not like their government ; and like most of the 
other governments of Europe, except the English, it is 
merely kept up by force and French soldiers. 

To-day, Sunday, January 17th, we attended service in 
the Palazzo Braschi, in a room of which is the American 
chapel. There is the Presbyterian service in the morning, 
and Episcopalian in the evening. At three o'clock we 
attended the English service, in a building just outside the 
walls, which it has been granted to the English to erect, as 
they are not allowed to have one inside the walls. The two 
Protestant congregations do not agree very well. At the 
American service, it is said, the chaplain declined praying 
for the Queen, in form, whereupon the English minister 
omits praying for the President of the United States. In 
the English church, I listened to the fine music and the 
rather good sermon. Really, the various Protestant sects 
have reformed a good deal from Catholicism, and if they 
would examine the Bible for themselves more, and listen to 
their preachers less, they might, in the course of time, get 
right. I heard the minister read a portion of Paul's letter 
to the Romans. Eighteen hundred years have passed, and 
here we were, in Rome, listening to that Epistle, just out- 

2o 



458 HIGH MASS AT ST. PETER's. 

side the walls. I thought how anxious the Apostle was to 
come to Kome — how he came, and suffered death here. 
Yet, how directly pointed seem the Apostle's appeals to be 
now, on the very place to which they were first addressed 
— since then read in all languages. The saints he alluded 
to have all gone to dust. They worshiped Grod, and read 
his Epistles in the Catacombs of St. Sebastian ; they hid, 
during the day, in those subterranean receptacles, and 
brought the bodies of martyrs there for burial. St. Paul 
was himself put to death in Nero's Circus, on the very 
ground where St. Peter's church now stands. The most 
splendid church in the world is erected on the place where 
he suffered, and there a worship, in which the death of 
Jesus Christ is recognized, has been performed for fifteen 
hundred years. Over the Catacombs rises, also, a splendid 
Basilica. St. Peter was crucified, with his head downward, 
in the place where now is built the fine church, San Pietro 
in Montorio. Their triumph is complete. 

But the sunset on Monte Pincio — who that has ever been 
at Rome can forget it ? The splendid carriages wind up 
and down the zigzag route, from the Palazzo del Popolo np 
to the sunny summit, where are gardens, villas, music, stat- 
uary. The setting sun throws a yellow sea over all the 
west — then the hues are merged in roseate tints, and the 
numerous domes rise np in the soft blue air of Rome — and 
an angel-looking visitant, the young moon, comes out of 
the sky, as if wondering at all this loveliness. Thus, and 
here looked she when Cicero and Caesar and Rome had their 
great past. 

But to-day, Monday, January 18th, was one of the great 
days of St. Peter's, the festival of the removal of the Papal 
Chair from Antioch to Rome. The times when all ecclesi- 
astical matters took place have been accurately settled by 
the Roman theologians, and if there be any historical 
doubts or discrepancies, a papal bull is called for, which 



HIGH MASS AT ST. PETER'S. 459 

most effectually silences all difficulties. The Pope simply 
decrees that it was so. We were there at an early hour, and 
as we entered, we heard the mysterious singing of the 
Pope's chorus, in one of the side chapels, coming as from a 
far distance. The scene on entering the church is always 
interesting. The eighty-nine bright lamps, burning day 
and night around the crypt, in front of the High Altar, 
within which crypt are the headless bodies of St. Peter and 
St. Paul, and over which rises the High Altar, immediately 
under the great dome, with its four immense columns of 
fluted bronze, with all kinds of adornments, garlands, 
cherubs, vines, etc., sculptured on them — the columns sup- 
porting a splendid canopy. The Pope's Swiss Guards, in 
their curious uniform, invented, it is said, by Michael An- 
gelo, composed of yellow, black, and all sorts of stripes, 
and looking like the ne plus ultra of harlequin ugliness, 
came around and stood guard, admitting none to a near 
view, excepting gentlemen in black, with dress coats on, 
and ladies arrayed entirely in black, and with no bonnets 
on their heads, which were to be enveloped in a black vail, 
and excluding all others. The principal ceremonies were 
to be in the Tribune, or open space behind the Grreat Altar 
formed by the junction of the Latin cross. The ex-queen 
of Spain, now living in Eome, came, with her attendants, 
and sat down in a place specially prepared for her. A 
space in the grand central aisle, through which the proces- 
sion was to pass, was kept clear by armed soldiers. Some 
seventy or eighty of the Pope's guards, composed of the 
chief Italian nobility, arrayed in splendid and imposing 
uniform, armed with swords — other soldiers, arm,ed with 
halberds and lances — formed on opposite sides of the 
Tribune. There were thousands of people in the church, 
but owing to the vast size there was most abundant space 
for all. It was one of the few occasions in which High 
Mass is performed at the Altar of St. Peter, by the Pope in 



460 HIGH MASS AT ST. PETER'S. 

person. Suddenly, there was the noise of voices in accla- 
mation, the sound of a trumpet in the far distance, toward 
the entrance of the church (we were at the other end, near 
the High Altar), has attracted all attention, and looking 
toward the entrance, we perceived a grand, moving spectacle 
approaching us in gilt and gold — the Pope of Eome in a 
golden chair, which was borne on the shoulders of twelve 
cardinals, advancing slowly up the grand nave, lined on 
each side with soldiers and people. Nothing could exceed 
the splendor of this procession. You might think of Anti- 
christ, the Man of Sin, the Son of Perdition, Mystery, 
Babylon the Great, or what you please, but this grand 
array at once realized all one might know or dream of, that 
was stately and imposing. Two enormous fans, composed 
of plumes of ostrich feathers, on long gilt wands, carried 
by two men, preceded him. He was arrayed in a large 
folding robe of white satin, embroidered with gold. He 
had on his head a triple crown, or tiara. He crossed him- 
self frequently, and blessed the people as he advanced 
slowly along. Bishops and cardinals arrayed in crimson, 
with attendant train bearers, preceded and followed ; there 
were mitres and crucifixes, resplendent with gems, borne 
along. This scene, in such a church, seemed to mock even 
the splendid sunlight. When he reached the Tribune, he 
was assisted to alight. When kneeling on a rich cushion 
before the altar, his crown was taken oft' — the cardinals re- 
moved their red caps, knelt, and all were supposed to be 
"making their devotions " — after which he rose, and walked 
to the throne erected for him in the Tribune. Cardinals, in 
long, red robes, with prodigious tails, or trails, which were 
carried by their servants, came up and kissed his hand, or 
the hem of his robe, or the cross on his slipper, bowed three 
times, as is said to him, as to the Father, on his right, as to 
the Son, in front, and on his left, as to the Holy Ghost. 
Other ceremonies were gone through, such as holding a large 



HIGH MASS AT ST. PETEK's. 461 

gilt book before him, with immense lighted candles on each 
side, though in the splendors of day, so that he might read ; 
there was singing, also, in which the Pope joined, with a 
rather full, strong voice. There was, also, much putting on 
and off done to the tiara, or crown, considerable blowing of 
the nose on the part of his " Holiness," great staring on the 
part of us Protestants ; there was frequent dispersing of 
incense, carrying golden cups and dishes, jewelled and 
gemmed, display of large golden crosses, etc. A priest then 
ascended a small side pulpit, knelt to the Pope, then made 
an oration, and, when closed, he knelt again. The Grand 
Mass then went on, the music, performed wholly by the 
Pope's choir, seated on the right of the Grand Altar, was 
of the most splendid character. The music was all vocal, 
as is generally the case when the Pope is present, but, with 
the exception of the grand organ at Freiburg, I have never 
heard any thing so remarkable in the world of sound. Oc- 
casionally it proceeded rather monotonously, and rather 
wearisome, but at times there rolled in a chant, awful, 
frightful, and tremendous, like thunder rattling along the 
embattled walls of heaven. It was no music of this world 
— the genius of the other world was in it. Then it wailed 
like some sad spirit, stalking among the marble-sculptured 
ruins of the Eoman Forum ; then it came out in fearful 
sublimity, like a voice that could shatter earth into atoms. 
Then it grew loftier and wilder, as if it went up to lose 
itself among the stars, and then lonely as the wail of the 
angel, who had, in vain, sought the boundary stone of cre- 
ation. Then it ceased. The Pope again was assisted to the 
cushioned stool, knelt, and immediately behind him knelt 
the fifty or sixty cardinals, two and two ; the Pope's head 
was uncovered; the guards all dropped on one knee, the 
clangor of their arms on the marble pavement resounded ; 
the scene in the splendid, immense church, with its vast 
dome above, the curious and rich altar below it, the lamps, 

2 02 



462 THE POPE. 

the long, massivG; and numerous wax candles burning, the 
gorgeous dress of the cardinals, the sudden silence, the sun- 
light on the great marble columns, and the glorious paint- 
ings and mosaics, the presence of that most historical of all 
characters, the Pope of Eome, claiming to be the two hun- 
dred and fifty-ninth in regular apostolic descent, from St. 
Peter, asserting, and believed in by the one hundred and 
twenty millions of the Catholic world, to have mysterious 
powers over hell and heaven, all made the scene imposing 
and solemn. It was at the elevation of the Host, as it is 
called, or that part of the Mass in which they are called on 
to adore the piece of bread, or wafer, which it is the most 
important idea of the Catholic faith to regard as really the 
flesh of Christ. The Pope was then elevated again, by the 
assistance of the cardinals, on his chair of state, and carried 
around to that side of the altar where we were, passing 
close to us, and giving those who knelt his blessing, which 
seemed to be all he had to give. The spirit of Martin 
Luther was strong in our group, and we did not kneel, nor 
even bow ; upon seeing which, he intercepted the blessing 
he was about to give us. The infallible Pope of Kome had 
made a mistake. In old days he would have burnt us at 
the stake. But the politics of Protestantism have taught 
him to respect its religion. Passing along the nave, the 
pageant disappeared, the Pope passing by a side door into 
his palace of the Vatican. The Pope is a well fed, fat, be- 
nevolent-looking old man, in his sixty-sixth year. Of all 
the persons in that house, it is probable he, least of all, had 
his own way. He is a part of the great machinery of 
Catholicism. It is necessary that the station be filled by a 
nonentity. He cannot undertake any reforms. His duties 
and his sphere are all fixed and defined, and he cannot de- 
part; if he did, his life would be sacrificed to his office. 
The present Pope, in the early part of his reign, attempted 
liberalism, but was soon given to understand his bed would 



VESPERS AT ST. PETER's. 463 

become one of thorns, and he has gone back into the 
"things that are." It is evident, however, that such cere- 
monies, in the name of religion, must become tiresome. It 
would never suit Americans. We love change — something 
new — we soon become tired. But Europeans reverence the 
old, and are attached to their time-honored customs. But 
the Pope and his tiara of two thousand sparkling diamonds, 
a present from the ex-queen of Spain, his guard of nobles, 
and his Swiss Guard, and the name and station of Apostolic 
successor, are out of St. Peter's. On the place where he 
stood, St. Peter, eighteen hundred years ago, suffered mar- 
tyrdom. What a change from the scene of then to the 
grandeur of now. Yet the Pope to-day looked humble, and 
seemed by no means proud, and doubtless is as much the 
successor of St. Peter as any body else in Europe or 
America, and probably has far less pride than many who 
have far less pomp and circumstance. But if it be not as 
gross idolatry as was ever practiced in the four hundred and 
twenty-four temples of ancient Eome, it is hard to tell what 
it can mean. 

At half-past three o'clock, I attended Yespers in St. 
Peter's. There were two grand organs, and two choirs. It 
was in one of the side chapels of St. Peter's, as large as an 
ordinary-sized church. The music of the old Masses seems 
more interesting than the religious feeling in them. Many 
of the voices were very fine. In former days, and perhaps 
at present too, it was the custom to procure some poor per- 
sons, who were made eunuchs in order that their peculiar 
contralto voice might fill some of the parts. It is said the 
performance of these pieces has been attempted in vain in 
other places, and that the true interpretation of them is 
given nowhere but in Rome, and at St. Peter's. Many per- 
sons object to the music, as too operatic; but they forget, 
probably, they are making the circumstances under which 
they have been educated the standard by which to judge of 



464 BEATRICE CENCL 

the feelings and wants of others. In these climes, in the 
south generally, there is a greater tendency to theatrical 
display ; even devotion seeks a dramatic form ; human feel- 
ing is here more objective — emotion is all external — and all 
feelings seek action ; and we, in our more subjective nature 
may, perhaps, only condemn what is as natural and proper 
in them as our course is to us. The same feelings have 
various forms of manifestation in different nations. 

But this most lovely of days, January 19th, one of the 
finest, most deeply clear, most brightly blue, most truly 
sunlit days I have ever seen anywhere, I am in the Bar- 
berini Palace. From the Piazza di Spagna, you go out the 
Yia Felice, or the Happy Street ; you come to the Piazza 
Barberini, with its antique fountains and its beggars lying 
in the sun, to the palace, which, like many other Italian 
palaces, is not very cleanly in its surroundings. The lower 
stories of some of the palaces may be a temple or a stable 
or a cafe— you can only find out which by observation. 
This family has decayed — though some of them were Popes 
— into an old semi-idiot, the Cardinal Barberini. Beggars 
may be seen lying about the stately columns which sur- 
round the lofty inner court, and fountains, with marble 
statues, may be found playing amidst filth. But it has its 
treasures of art, its picture galleries — like most others — its 
statues and sculptures dug out of ruins, its mosaic tables 
and bronze chimeras, and it has some lovely, glorious, 
speaking pictures by Eaphael and Guido. I stood before 
the extraordinary picture-portrait of Beatrice Cenci — the 
lovely, the unfortunate, the stern and the gentle. She is 
looking back on you as sht goes to execution, like a half- 
regretful sunset — weeping, and yet glad to go — dying, yet 
remembering, loving, yet regretting. It is one of the most 
poignant paintings I have ever seen. It is youth and 
warm, fresh life under a dark cloud of wrong — one who 
must die, and who would die, yet cast a last, lingering look 



BEATRICE CENOI. 465 

behind. Who is it that knows not her most tragical 
history ? She is the favorite in Eome, next to the Virgin 
and St. Agnese. The family is long since extinct. The 
painting is by Gnido, who saw her as she cast a glance 
back, on her way to execution for the alleged murder of 
her father, '' The Cenci/' by way of eminence, whose name 
is pronounced Yfith a kind of horror in the voice by the 
Eomans of the present day. She was beheaded at Kome in 
1599. Her father, in the vast stone castle of Petrella, on 
the route to Naples, as well as in the Cenci Palace at Eome, 
performed untold horrors, for which he purchased absolu- 
tion from the venal Pope, and at length attempted incest 
with his own daughter. She having no resource, the ser- 
vants of the Count, to save her honor, and in assumed but 
never expressed compliance with her wish, murdered him. 
Beatrice maintained her innocence to the last ; but the in- 
fluence of a powerful family, who had much to gain by the 
extinction of the Cenci family, and the occurrence of a 
similar crime at the same time, induced the Pope to order 
her execution. No copies of this painting are allowed to 
be taken by the Count Barberini, unless at request of a 
crowned head. Few pictures, however, are more common, 
in all the picture shops of Kome, than this, but they are 
miserably inferior. Beside this picture is the Fornarina, by 
Kaphael, the lady whom he loved, a splendid, living paint- 
ing — gay, lascivious beauty, and ability to give pleasure, 
yet a rather unpleasing picture. The heart turns to the 
sad, pensive, yet young, fresh, and dying Beatrice. Her 
golden hair falls around her shoulders. She is habited in 
the white robe in which to die, but immortality and the 
other life look out from her eyes, mingled with the majestic 
sorrow of leaving this world in innocence and disgrace, and 
the last of her name. Seldom, except in Leonardo da 
Vinci's painting at Milan, of the "Last Supper," have I 
seen embodied so much expression. There is also a very 
30 



466 ARA CCELI. 

good painting liere of Adam and Eve, by Domenichino. But 
I have ascended the one hundred and twenty -four marble 
steps leading to the church, Ara Coeli, near the Capitol, and 
on part of the Capitoline Hill, and on the site, as is supposed, 
of the great Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. It is said to 
be twelve hundred years old. The ceiling is flat, gilded, 
and carved, and the floor is in mosaic of various designs. 
The monks and priests, hooded and unhooded, are walking 
about, or kneeling in the various aisles, or altars, and a 
large black cat is stepping demurely over the marble floor. 
There is an aisle on each side of the nave, formed of mas- 
sive columns, taken from the ruins of temples, or brought 
from Egypt in old days. There are many tombs and paint- 
ings, the latter by great masters, images and relics; and 
here is also the miraculous Bambino, or wooden babe, that 
cures the sick and performs divers miracles. The church is 
of great size; the long rows of columns look grand, and it 
is rich in pictures and statues, and is paved with tombs. 
Outside, on the portico, grass-grown and old, you look over 
Eome, and the hills beyond, and you see the ascent, leading 
to another part of the Capitoline Hill, whereon you see the 
equestrian statues of Castor and Pollux, the Egyptian lions, 
the ruined statues called the ''Trophies of Marius," and in 
the middle of the piazza, the great bronze Koman statue of 
Marcus Aurelius, on horseback. It is Rome you see — but 
Rome, old, dead and gone. On this hill was the chief Tem- 
ple of Jupiter, "the father of all the gods and men." The 
columns of his temple have been used to build this old 
church and the convent adjoining. Man will corrupt every 
thing he touches. Catholicism is corrupted Christianity, as 
Paganism is the corrupted, ancient, sublime traditions that 
came from Adam, as a legacy from Paradise. The saints 
and sisters are the reappearance, in other forms, of Pagan 
ideas. Jupiter and Venus are displaced, but Peter and 



CENCI PALACE. 467 

Mary have come up. " Ephraim is joined to his idols, let 
him alone." 

But here, in another part of the city, is surely the most 
horrid, hideous, hateful, hellish, of all places that I have 
seen. It is ''II Ghetto." Not only Kome, but mankind 
here seem in rains. It is the Jews' quarter. Filthy, abom- 
inable, narrow, and dirty streets, crowded with hapless 
mortals ; old clothes vendors and dirt vendors of all kinds 
are here. Any one who has a taste for the weird, the outre, 
the antique, for a small, irregular slice of hell, for humanity 
in decay, for a people on whom the self-invoked curse — " on 
them and their children " — has wrought and reached its 
uttermost, can here get gratification. Here, in the midst of 
all, stands the gloomy, old, stone Cenci Palace, looking as 
if haunted by the ghosts of demons. Here lived Beatrice 
Cenci. The demon, her father, here attempted the violation 
of his own daughter, and filled the house with whores and 
horrors. The dwellers about tell you " It is the Cenci !" and 
almost cross themselves immediately, to exorcise the 
thought of them. Its lower story is barred, and the win- 
dows have iron grates to them. It was long uninhabited, 
and the family is now extinct. Around here you may read 
remains of long Roman inscriptions, half effaced. You 
may see ruins of temples, theatres, carved columns, and 
relics of Rome, portions of which were used to construct 
the Cenci Palace. 

The yellow Tiber, swift and compact, flows near, and 
the soft bright sun is over all in his glory, beauty, and 
brilliancy, yet what wretchedness and ruin below. Those 
who have their existence anywhere else than here, may 
well be thankful. Among these people, however, occa- 
sionally you may see at times a face or form of rare, dark 
eastern Jewish beauty, a kind of reassertion of the old 
beauty the race once had on the hills of Palestine. The 
Jews have to appear each year before the Grovernor of 



468 THE COLISEUM. 

Kome, and beg permission to live another year in this 
most filthy quarter, which is granted them on condition 
they pay the expenses of the Carnivals. Formerly 
they were shut in by bars and gates each night, and 
not allowed to come out till next morning. Near their 
quarter is a church for them to look at, having on it, in 
Italian, '' All day long have I stretched out my hands to a 
stiff-necked, rebellious people." Yet the Jews are the un- 
mixed and true aristocracy of all mankind. None have 
so noble an origin, so pure a blood, or so grand a litera- 
ture, or have conferred such benefits on the world. Hu- 
manly speaking, Isaiah, and Joel, and John, are not only 
superior to Homer, Yirgil, and Dante, but the assertion of 
any superiority in the latter is merely grandly ridiculous. 
Crossing the little old stone bridge here, you reach an 
island in the Tiber. This bridge was built just two thou- 
sand years ago. Small as the island is, (it was cut into the 
form of a boat) it has several large churches. On one 
of them is inscribed: "In this church is the body of 
St. Bartholomew, the Apostle." The remains lie under the 
principal altar, in a sarcophagus of red porphyry. Eome 
would be nothing were its relics and ruins taken from it. 
Eeturning toward the city you pass the " Street of Conso- 
lation," rather inaptly named, as it passes the base of the 
Tarpeian rock, where criminals expired, being precipitated 
from above. Yet along here, and amongst mean houses, 
what royal ruins appear — they seem the wrecks of a lovely 
past, strewn about by time and carnage. 

To-day, January 20th, I went to the Colonna Palace, 
belonging to the once powerful and princely family of the 
middle ages ; but now, like most of the other great fami- 
lies of that period, it is much reduced. There are said 
to be seventy-five palaces in Rome, and that no city can 
boast of so large a number of fine palaces. They gene- 
rally belonged to Papal families, and the Popes having no 



THE COLISEUM. 469 

children, descended to collateral branches. The palace con- 
tains some hundreds of paintings, but the best of the once 
large collection have been sold or removed to other places. 
There are some works in tapestry, and some antique 
bronzes here, and in particular a splendid cabinet, with 
various designs in ivory relief — in particular, one repre- 
senting Michael Angelo's Last Judgment. Some of the 
paintings are in an immense hall, reckoned one of the 
grandest in Europe, and which is itself a wonder. There 
are old Venetian mirrors, frescoes on the ceiling, some 
antique statues, besides the paintings. The domestics of 
the family, in livery costume, receive you in each room, 
take your paul, hand you the catalogue of paintings, and 
warm their fingers over the charcoal brazier in the room, 
there being no fires. Most of these cold marble halls are 
not YGTj comfortable, though there are crowds in them 
each day they are open, many ladies ugly enough to 
belong to the higher classes of the English nobility. Then 
through divers dirty streets we went to the Roman Forum, 
and vainly sought to disentangle the past from the present, 
for Rome has been eight times destroyed and rebuilt, and 
the antiquaries unsettle one's faith in every thing by end- 
less discussions. Here, in the space now generally called 
the Roman Forum, were once eight or ten temples, gor- 
geous and glorious — there were Arches of Triumph, sev- 
eral Basilicas or Halls of Justice, numerous lofty col- 
umns, and the accents of Cicero have been heard on this 
classic air. Twenty feet of earth have accumulated around 
the bases of the ruins, and it is a resort for cattle Vendors, 
has numerous low and filthy shops, beggars lay in the sun ; 
ragged, cheerless men stand about and lean on the cold old 
columns of marble half sunk in the ground, and pillars of 
porphyry that have been incorporated into churches. 
Other marble columns stand alone with the ragged ruins 
of time about them ; the old marble itself has wasted, 

2 P 



470 THE COLISEUM. 

while in other places is the elegant frieze-work and sculpture 
of twenty centuries ago, distinct, scatliless, and defiant of 
time. On your right are numerous isolated columns, frag- 
ments of temples, and on your left are the vast ruins of 
arches of Roman brick work, remains it is said, of the once 
mao-nificent Basilicas of Constantiue, fifteen hundred and 
twenty years old. Further on we see the remains of the 
Temple of Remus and Romulus, erected in the reign of the 
Emperor Hadrian, around which are strewn many fragments 
of granite columns. These are near the monster ruin, the 
Coliseum — which, from its high old gray walls, on which 
here and there are growing tufts of vegetation, seems to 
mingle with the blue sky above, emulating in its eternity 
of decay the everlasting serenity of the heavens. Around 
you are the huge basement walls of the building, nearly 
two hundred feet thick at base, in which were the dens for 
the wild animals; also corridors, passages, and stairways. 
The Coliseum is the most grand, affecting, and. mournful 
ruin in the world. 

It is just enough ruined. Parts of it would have fallen 
down, but that the present and preceding Popes have had 
it propped up by walls. Here, on those ascending sides 
from the interior, once lined with marble, were seats on 
which the Romans sat and looked down on the wild beasts 
devouring the Christians ; the Romans have all passed 
away and Christianity has conquered the world, and rules 
and reigns in the proud city, and even in the Coliseum itself. 
They saw the Goths and barbarians fighting here for their 
amusement — these barbarians have formed empires sur- 
passing Rome in civilization. All is gone but the ruin — 
the gray, sad, aged ruin. Eighty-seven thousand persons 
could sit at one time in the vast interior; and here they 
assembled day after day for hundreds of years ; but they 
are all gone now like the leaves of past autumns. The 
Coliseum, however, is almost time proof. It seems treas- 



THE COLISEUM. 471 

"uring up some might j past in its great heart. It has the 
curse to live and wither through the moonlights and sun- 
lights of ages to come, and may survive Rome itself. 
A¥hen the Campagna malaria shall have conquered the 
many-times conquered city, and be its last subduer, the 
Coliseum will stand on the depopulated base of the seven 
hills, garnering the Christian dust till the last trumpet 
shall awaken the martyrs on the spot where they fell. 
Christians were brought from the remotest quarters of the 
empire to be tortured here. They were hunted out of the 
Catacombs of the Campagna into which persecution had 
compelled them to fly. St. Ignatius was brought from 
Antioch, and exposed to the wild beasts here for a fero- 
cious feast for the Romans. The Coliseum never disap- 
points, but always surpasses expectation. St. Peter's may 
perhaps disappoint. It is vastness overdone with minute- 
ness. The Coliseum is simply and ruinously grand. The 
size of St. Peter's seems to be in conflict with, and wonder- 
ing at its trappings. The Coliseum has no ornaments. It 
is architecture gone back into nature ; it is stone, old, gray, 
square stone, forgetful that it had once to do with men, 
fleeting, busy, hasting, hurrying men, and pleasant, light 
and lovely women. It had to do with Paganism and Ju- 
piter, and Romans and martyrs. 

But to-day, January 21, I was in the Capitol Museum, 
containing, like the Vatican, the remains of ancient sculp- 
ture. The building occupies the left side of the square of 
the Capitol. I have looked at the "Dying Gladiator." 
Lord Byron's description of it is wonderfully accurate. 
The size of the wounded man dying is larger than life ; 
the effect is melancholy on the beholder ; it is so evidently 
a thoughtful man gradually conquered by death. It is one 
in cheerful, fresh, hopeful life, who had never thought of 
death as a thing in which he was concerned, over whom 
not the thought, but the reality, had come suddenly and 



472 ATTEMPT TO ASSASSINATE THE EMPEEOK. 

surprisingly. He has fallen, and leans on one hand, and 
looks toward the earth. The cold prostrate statue has 
some of the awfulness of death about it. You feel solemn 
and impressed, as if more than marble was there. It is 
described by anatomists as being true to nature in every 
particular. It was dug out of the Gardens of Sallust. 
There are here many other statues and busts — some of 
emperors, gods, goddesses, and chimeras, extracted from 
various ruins. There are antique busts of nearly all the 
Eoman Emperors, in the true, severe, Koman strictness of 
feature ; and it is interesting to gaze at these most life-like 
representations of monsters of men, as some of them were, 
and observe the conformity in their general appearance and 
physiognomy, to the facts of their history. Then there is an 
adjoining apartment containing the busts of nearly one hun- 
dred persons, the most eminent in all antiquity. One of the 
best heads here is that of Alexander the Grreat. There are 
also Homer, Socrates — the latter remarkably ugly ; Alci- 
biades, Plato, Cleopatra, etc. In another room I was par- 
ticularly struck with a bas relief on a sarcophagus repre- 
senting the battle of the Amazons with Theseus. In an- 
other room is a remarkable Eoman or Grecian mosaic, 
representing four doves drinking — a work of most singular 
accuracy — much admired by the ancients, in which there is 
only not life. The doves are represented as drinking, and 
the shadow of one darkens the water. The pieces of na- 
tural stone of which it is composed are so small that one 
hundred and sixty of them are contained in a square inch. 

The great subject of conversation among all classes of 
late has been the attempt to assassinate the Emperor of the 
French on the 14th of this month. It has thus been at- 
tempted the second time by Italians. The Italians hate 
him — hate the whole Bonaparte dynasty. They say the 
first Napoleon sold them to Austria; that they in Eome are 
merely French subjects; that if they do any thing whatever, 



THE SCIAERA. PALACE. 473 

the French soldiers are ready to punish ; that on account 
of the Austrians in the north, and the French in the middle 
of Italy, their own condition is hopeless. The Italians have 
passion, pride, impetuosity, genius — but are superficial and 
powerless. Their dream is a republic ; but it would be a 
most bloody one. The difierent factions would rule by 
destroying each other. No people have been so much vic- 
timized by their own governments. Others have a temporal 
despotism to groan under : these have a temporal and spir- 
itual one too. The . French emperor will now have still 
more confidence in his destiny. It created a profound sen- 
sation in Eome, though at first it was regarded as a ruse, 
gotten up by the emperor to manufacture a sensation. It is 
true the Eomans here, and.the Pope also, are mere French 
subjects. The French have the Castle of St. Angelo and 
other points that command the city. But it is better for 
these people to bear ''the ills they have than fly to others 
that they know not of." 

. To-day :we visited some of the studios of the painters and 
sculptors. Rome contains many of these— not only Italian, 
but English and American artists. We saw a painting by 
an American artist, Mr. Eothmuller. It represents King 
Lear, Edgar, and Gloster his father — the king in the act of 
saying, "Aye, every. inch a king!" The position, attitude, 
and gesture of the king are all extremely . fine ; that of 
Edgar is also good. This painting is regarded here, among 
the best' artists, as a fine work ; and after three hundred 
years of age perhaps it wilh be regarded as a great work. 
T saw also some landscape paintings by an Italian artist 
who. painted twenty years before he showed any of 
his paintings — these seemed to be glowing /ac similes of 
nature. His name is Castelli. We also visited to-day the 
Sciarra Palace. It is in the Corso, and has some fine paint- 
ings. Those of Raphael are of course first looked at. One 
of his productions here, "The Violin Player," a simple 

2p2 



474 THE CHUKCH OF ST. CECILIA. 

portrait, yet "has that under half-alive expression which the 
great painter could give. You expect his paintings to 
move and speak, or you seem to recollect such persons in 
your past life. Eaphael more than paints ; he paints ex- 
pression and soul, and it is easy reading. There are some 
by Leonardo da Vinci, whose works are characteristic and 
peculiar. The one, " Vanity and Modesty," is a study for 
hours. There are several lovely Madonnas and Magda- 
lenes. These two ladies of olden times are presented in 
various ways and characters. The Virgin is always beau- 
tiful, holy, scarce of the '^ earth, earthy," pitiful ; the Mag- 
dalene is repenting, enticing, alluring — half-sorrowful, half- 
sinful. She is always a lovely sinner. 

To-day I have visited the Church of St. Cecilia, beyond 
the Tiber, in that part of the city called Trastevere. 
St. Cecilia is mentioned by Paul in his letter to the Romans. 
Portions of her house are yet shown among the foundation- 
walls of the edifice. She is buried under the High Altar. 
She is said to have been the inventress of the organ. 
I heard the fine music of the morning mass, and the 
nuns could be seen, with their pale, soft faces, passing 
dreamily and calmly about. The establishment of nunne- 
ries, convents, monasteries, affords a living to a vast number 
of persons in Catholic countries. They get a mere living 
by abnegating the common and natural ties of the heart, 
and by the performance of their stereotyped devotions. 
The world becomes to them that portion of it within the 
walls of the establishment. The probability is that they 
have as severe internal struggles as those have who remain 
without engaged in contact with the world. Many of these 
establishments are wealthy, having legacies left them by 
some discontented and wealthy old person who had sought 
within their walls seclusion and repose — or left them en- 
dowments by way of atoning for sin. Some are poor, how- 
ever, and beg, starve, and teach. I looked at the mosaics 



THE PKOTESTANT CEMETEKY. 475 

and frescoes here, whicli are one thousand years old. The 
church has a wide nave, with two side aisles, separated from 
the nave by long rows of beautiful columns. Not far from 
this flows the Tiber, and you may see here some ships that 
have come from the Mediterranean ; and here are also the 
remains of the oldest bridge in Eome, about two thousand 
three hundred years old. It is the bridge on which the 
noble Eoman Horatius Codes stood, defending the narrow 
pass against the army of Porsenna, till the Romans broke 
the bridge down behind him, when he swam ashore and 
escaped. The foundations of the piers alone remain. Cross- 
ing the river, and passing down it along the base of the 
Aventine Hill, having on the left numerous substructions 
of ancient and unknown palaces and temples, all ruined 
and gone, and continuing to walk some distance over now 
deserted spaces, once a populous part of the city, one arrives 
at a most sad, sweet, quiet spot, where are the old and new 
Protestant Cemeteries and the great Pyramid of Caius 
Cestius. The old Cemetery is small, and is surrounded by 
a deep ditch, and has numerous cypresses and pines. It is 
close adjoining the old Pyramid of the Roman, built of 
marble, now blackened by time, which rises high, and gray, 
and stern, above the smaller monuments beneath. The 
new Cemetery occupies the slope of a hill, and is walled 
around, one side of it being inclosed by the walls of the 
city. It is well kept ; the gravel-paths are in fine order, 
and bright flowers are blooming underneath the tall cypress 
trees. The inscriptions are generally in English; some are 
in Greek; and some persons here buried are from the 
United States. Some monuments are to members of the 
English nobility who have died in Rome. One of the 
plainest I noticed had on it nothing but ''William, fifth 
Duke of Manchester." The walls of Rome, built by Aure- 
lius the emperor, with their falling towers and gray, ivy- 
covered ruins, form an interesting object, viewed through 



476 THE PEOTESTANT CEMETERY". 

the funereal cypress plantations around the graves. Most 
of the monuments are of marble ; some are of travertin — 
volcanic stone. I stood by the grave of Shelley, the genius, 
misguided and erroneous, but amiable and benevolent. It 
is a plain slab, almost level with the ground, close to the 
ivy-mantled old Roman wall. It has on it his name, time 
of birth, and death, and the Latin words, " Cor cordium," 
"heart of hearts." There is also dimly written below: 

" Nothing of him but doth suffer a sea change, 
Into something rich and strange," 

in allusion to his being drowned near Leghorn. The body 
having been washed ashore, was (such having been Shel- 
ley's wish) consumed by fire ; the heart, however, not burn- 
ing, was buried here. ISTo place more fitting could have 
been found for him who wrote ^' Alastor, or the Spirit of 
Solitude," and /'Prometheus Unbound," with its "thrice 
three hundred thousand years." In the old Cemetery, which 
has been much longer in use, I found the grave of the emi- 
nent English surgeon, John Bell, and also that of the 
author of a line which will be remembered while earth 
exists — 

' A thing of "beauty is a joy forever," — 

John Keats. It is a small marble monument, without his 
name, time of birth, or death. He is described as " a young 
English poet, who, on his death-bed, in the bitterness of his 
heart at the malice of his enemies, desired these lines on 
his tombstone, /Here lies one whose name was writ in 
water.' " Keats died in Rome, where some of his last words 
were, " I feel the daisies growing over me !" They do grow 
over . him. His death is generally attributed to the ill- 
natured criticism on his works,. which appeared in the 
"Quarterly Review." Keats, as has been well remarked, 
was the greatest of all poets who have died so young. The 



PYEAMID OF CAIUS OESTIUS. 477 

"Eve of St. Agnes " will be admired and read one thousand 
years after the coarse productions of Gifford, who is sup- 
posed to have written the critique, have been inhumed. 
Keats, in regard to true poetry, is worth three Words- 
worths and five Southeys. The gray Pyramid of Caius 
Cestius, the walls of the city built partly around it, with its 
old marble Corinthian columns on each side, is one hundred 
and twenty-five feet high : the width at the base, one hun- 
dred feet; the walls, of travertin and brick- work, and 
coated with marble, are twenty-five feet thick. The wall 
of the city here indicates the decline of the empire when its 
old age came upon it, and the Goths and other barbarians 
menaced its existence. I entered by a low tomb or cave- 
like aperture, into a vaulted apartment in the centre of the 
pyramid, where the guide, w^ho had provided torches, 
showed me, on the sides of the chamber, the rapidly disap- 
pearing frescoes of birds and human figures. The chamber 
was empty, damp, and dripping. The body of the proud 
Koman^he lived in the Augustan age — with its sarcopha- 
gus, has long since disappeared. The ground around the 
pyramid has been elevated many feet in the lapse of years. 
The Koman is forgotten in his own tomb, and new religions 
and new empires have grown over the place. Keturning, 
I passed over the Aventine Hill, crowned with several 
churches and convents, and also some fine gardens of olives 
and oranges. I shall never forget the piled-up clouds of the 
Italian sunset I saw here. They rose from the sea, and 
rested on the blue hills that bound the Campagna, like a 
tent stretched for the tenantry of heaven, who had came 
down to look at the ruin-seared scene of earth's history. 
The view from the Aventine is most lovely. But every 
thing around is Catholic. You see written on the churches, 
"Full indulgence every day, for the living and the dead." 
It is said, in some of these churches, a person, by a skillful 
investment, can purchase twenty-nine thousand years in- 



4.78 ASCENT OF THE COLISEUM. 

diligence from the fires of purgatory. Images of tbe Yir- 
gin and Child, and crosses, occupy the most conspicuous 
points. 

To-day, January 25th, our party, consisting of six per- 
sons, ascended the great ruin, the Coliseum, to the top. 
The Coliseum seems to have been built with four very large 
and thick concentric walls, and proceeding from the centre, 
which was lowest and next to the arena, rising higher to 
the exterior one. On this, the Emperor, Yestal Yirgins, 
and chief persons sat — the other circles of walls, with seats 
rising higher, being in the rear. On the highest tier, the 
common people sat. The inner wall, which was probably 
highly ornamented, is in utter ruins. We ascended by 
staircases of brick, to the second, third, and fourth stories, 
there being landing places and wide corridors between each 
wall, supported by enormous arches, in some places almost 
ready to fall. It looks almost like a craggy chasm in a 
mountain, when you look into the interior from the sum- 
mit, nearly one hundred and fifty-seven feet high. Around 
you, on the exterior, are the usual views of Rome — the 
great ruins which are very near, the arches and ruins of 
temples, the sea sixteen miles off, and the past-world look- 
ing Campagna. We walked along the brick corridors and 
platforms between the walls. Snails, lizards, and many 
other animals have taken a secure retreat in the ruins. 
Trees and shrubs and weeds are growing out of the walls, 
and a whole botany of wall flowers are beguiling the great 
ruin with their brief beauty. Woodbine, and many other 
creeping plants, here forever vernal, would bind up the 
broken places with verdure. But in vain. It cannot turn 
from its hoary, stone-petrified past. An army might well 
encamp in it yet. It was begun by Yespasian, and finished 
by Titus. Five thousand wild beasts are said to have 
fought in it to dedicate it. The triumph of Trajan, over 
the Dacians, was celebrated in it, by the combat of ten 



COLISEUM BY MOONLIGHT. 479 

thousand gladiators, and eleven thousand wild beasts were 
slain, the sports continuing four months. 
' Some has reliefs in the Vatican Palace represent scenes 
in the Coliseum, by which it appears that there were sub- 
terranean caves, or passages, under the floor of the arena, 
and by suddenly lifting, by machinery, the stone doors of 
these, the wild animals beneath, mad with pain and hunger, 
sprang up like lightning, and devoured the Christians, after 
chasing them around the arena, or in some cases the latter 
were chained to stakes. 

Keturning from the Coliseum, we entered the gallery of 
paintings on the Capitol Piazza. Many of them are very 
interesting ; there are also some antique sculptures ; some 
striking ones of Julius Caesar, recognized at a glance, as 
conveying an idea of this lofty, proud, able, sagacious, 
heartless man ; the celebrated, antique, bronze She Wolf, 
the nurse of Eome — thunder-stricken and scarred — with 
Eomulus and Eemus, as twins. There are also some fres- 
coes here, and some tapestry works. 

But the Coliseum by moonlight, and alone ! Down I go, 
along the Yia Condotti to its entrance into the Corso, the 
principal street in Kome. What crowds of Italians! some 
walking on the very narrow side walks, many in the middle 
of the streets, each with long cloaks, which might well con- 
ceal a stiletto. Some with little earthen pots, carrying red- 
hot coals, to keep their hands warm. Then you pass 
Eoman palaces, with their wide, arched gateways, entering 
to a large quadrangle, or inner court. You come to the 
Yenitian Palace, where the Corso terminates, enter narrow, 
dirty, old streets, where you might easily be stabbed and 
robbed and forgotten in ten minutes-— there is the pleasure 
of danger, however. Then you begin to ascend the Capi- 
toline Hill, with its buildings, by Michael Angelo; its 
equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius; its relics of ancient 
Eome, those stately and grand initials — the proudest that 



^80 COLISEUM BY MOONLIGHT. 

ever were, S. P. Q. K., the Senate and People of Eome — on 
many objects, and you now have left the city, and have 
come upon the ruins^columns, fragments of temples, 
sunken pavements, worn with the feet of Eomans, ancient 
arches. You are upon the Via Sacra, then the round, 
grand, monster of a ruin rises up before you, and fills half 
the sky, like a visible embodiment of a mighty past. The 
jagged shadow falls on the ruins around, the trees and 
shrubs on the walls look like the waving garments of the 
multitudes who sat there in olden time, the stars are seen 
through the ''rents of ruin," and the moonlight lays its soft, 
white hand on all, and seems to bind up the chasms ten- 
derly, like a hand of beauty on a rugged, heart-seared brow. 
The night wind sighs through the arches, and along the 
vast, lonely corridors, and cloudy patches of mist, sweeping 
over the sky, shed alternate light and darkness, shade and 
shadow, moon and mystery, over the age-blackened walls. 
You pass under one of the arches, and stand within it. How 
large it appears in the dim light — the hallowed heart of a 
mighty, seared, scathed, and blasted empire, seems around 
you. The Palatine Hill, with the rains of the Ca3sars' 
Palace — the Coelian, cypress crowned — all these, and count- 
less generations are around you ; two thousand years of 
Koman empire seem here. Though conquered and kingly 
have alike passed away, yet the Coliseum, like an old world 
that has had its day, lingers on, a past amidst a present. It 
is well to have seen the dark, old desert in the moonlight, 
it leaves so solemn and mystic an impression on the hea^rt ; 
it looms up in the mind as the sublime of architecture and 
age. The clouds flit over the blue, Italian sky — the moon 
comes among them, and embroiders them with silver — both 
change and flit incessantly ; but it stands beneath, mute, and 
mighty, and changeless — the Kiobe of ruins, in the solemn 
darkness of moonlight, mystery, and age. 

Of late we have suspended sight-seeing. The cold, clear, 



AMEEIOA. 481 

wonderfully brilliant weather of this climate still continues. 
Great preparations are making to celebrate the Carnival, of 
which Eome is now the head-quarters. It is to commence 
in form next Saturday, and will last eight days. 

In Borne there are several reading-rooms, in which we 
can read papers from all regions. The New York Herald 
and several other American papers are taken; and it is 
really refreshing, after a day of toil spent among the ruins 
of Rome, to spend an hour in perusal of the more intense 
and energetic life in action in our own country, now far 
distant. There is always an appropriate stand-point at 
which to see any thing to advantage ; and I must say that 
here, in the midst of decrepit and extinct nationalities and 
ruins of mankind, and systems of religion or rather super- 
stitions, our young, flourishing and vigorous government 
appears to great advantage as a refreshing and green spot 
on the world's arena, where a broad and fertile land offers 
bounteously all the rich products of nature, and where a 
congenial government is at once the index and encourager 
of advancement and progress. We can almost feel the on- 
rushing tide of our country's destiny — and its assertion of 
a great future of new principles. There the people have 
got the government of themselves in their own hands; the 
verj air inhaled is freedom ; and the clanking shackles of 
tyranny, the chains on mind and the degradation of body 
are not, and the largeness and greatness of our country 
write themselves on heart and soul. The artificial barriers 
of caste and rank are not; and the only distinctions are 
those resulting from individual efforts, and the wide, grand 
work of developing life to its utmost is open to all. If we 
have faults, they are those of youth and exuberant health ; 
and our undiseased activity and energy will not stop with 
the levelling of forests and the subjection of nature, but 
will utter out a history that will overshadow and render 
tame all earth's past. America is the rejuvenescence of 
31 2q 



482 ' POLITICS. 

mankind. The first settlers found no established institu- 
tions there, and proceeded to make all things new. Never 
was such a theatre given to man for a fair trial of princi- 
ples. Never has the result so honestly answered to the 
circumstances. The object in the eternal archives of des- 
tiny was simply to give human nature a fair chance. A 
continent was dispeopled of a nonimproving race to make 
way for the experiment. The greatness of the interests at 
stake required their subjugation. The individual must 
yield to the general. The individual must be pained for 
his and the eventual good. The eventual settlement of the 
slavery question — that singular mental hallucination which 
affects the minds of so many men at the North — may now 
be foreseen. Its abettors, whatever moral honesty they 
might have had in regard to agitating that question — hav- 
ing of late years made it a political question — it will spend 
its force and descend to the tomb in company with other 
exploded issues, leaving the relative and natural position 
of the two races unaffected. The Kansas question, it ap- 
pears, remains unsettled. Like the disturbed pendulum, it 
will vibrate awhile, but will eventually settle on the broad 
and firm principle of popular sovereignty, as expounded by 
the President — not the licentious will of a mob, nor the as- 
serted numerical majority of a non-voting population — but 
the legal will of the people, as officially announced through 
constitutional channels. The condition of the African race — 
American slavery — being the highest and most excellent 
condition in which they have ever been known in all his- 
tory, will be fully set forth ; and presidential expectants, 
like Douglas, who flatter themselves their prescience has 
discovered a principle, by assuming the popular side of 
which they expect to be borne into power; and the miscel- 
laneous tribe of small calibre men, like Greeley and Seward, 
whose astonishing, inflated arrogance is only equalled by 
their destitution of moral principle — soft-headed, sleek, 



POLITICS. 483 

•fWeak men, like Sumner and others, who are able to master 
one idea, and even m.ake a speech on it — all these, in their 
small efforts to retard, or thwart, or divert the advancement 
of our country, will be cast aside by the great, sweeping 
tide of our onward history, as floating weeds old ocean's 
waves onl}^ elevate on her bosom to overwhelm in a yet 
deeper oblivion — while the influence of natural feelings, 
the common inheritance of American pride, the iron bands 
in the form of railways, the natural bands in the form of 
rivers, and the real interest of all — will tend to unite our 
people, and evoke for them happier auspices than the 
" ample page of history, rich with the spoils of time," has 
ever yet disclosed. 

Such men resemble the foul sores and ulcers that dis- 
charge the peccant humors of the physical system; they 
are the fungi of our rapid growth, and though foul them- 
selves, they are the conduits, the dirty ditches and sewers, 
by which the political system is purified. It is better to 
let men twist the rope by which to hang themselves than, 
by suppressing free speech, convert them into assassins and 
conspirators. Words and editorials are preferable to wea- 
pons and daggers, which such men might use if not unven- 
omed in some way. If they talk of morality, conscience, or 
plilanthropy, or consistency, they are to be suspected of 
undertaking a deeper game, since these, as well as honor, 
are used by them, not for their inherent value, but as 
drapery to conceal their selfish ends. They forget that 
Freedom is a relative term, and always implies to be free 
from something, and. that which may be freedom 'to one 
race is slavery to another — that the African race, though 
in a state which would be slavery to us, are in a state of 
freedom, relative to them and their ancestors — and that 
though we have destroyed the Indians by our civilization, 
we are elevating another race, by and through their slavery 
to us. But the common sense of America is sound, and 



484 POLITICS. 

our government differs from others in that, while theirs 
appears fair in the exterior, within are the seeds of ultimate 
dissolution; while ours is sound at the core, and casts off, at 
the surface, through the convulsion of untrammeled, free 
suffrage, its foully engendered humors, and permits them to 
rot in their own. degradation. While they assert that our 
practice stultifies the Declaration of Independence, "that all 
men are born free," they stultify themselves, since, though 
a man may be horn free, he does not continue so one 
moment after birth, but immediately comes into subjection 
to the laws of his being, condition, and circumstances ; the 
slave comes under the conditions of his being exactly in a 
similar manner in which every other person, each according 
to his position, relations, and circumstances, which he may 
modify, after birth, to some extent, but cannot yqyj con- 
veniently do so before. Each is born with certain influ- 
ences — hereditary, national, moral, legal — under which con- 
ditions he has his being, and the slave is, in no respect, any 
worse off in these particulars than that of the agitators 
themselves — his condition being as natural to him as theirs 
is to them. People are not elevated by merely changing 
their condition ; the slaves are elevated in and through and 
by their condition, in a greater degree than the agitators are 
in theirs, who, if one may judge by their narrow premises 
and halting conclusions, their rampant and gaseous denun- 
ciations, stand in great need of some other engine, than 
.their vaunted freedom, to elevate them into mediocrity. 
From the papers I see, it appears the President has taken a 
judicious course in regard to these matters, and it is well- 
known he has the requisite firmness to adhere to them, 
•seeking his applause in the constant vindication of his own 
-conscience, and the coming verdict of posterity. The nor^ 
mal state of the negro is to be a slave. A nation, or a man^ 
is in their normal state when they progress, or are in a state 
of their highest development. The negro, in Africa re- 



PINCIAN HILL. 485 

mains stationary ; the free negro, in general, amongst 
whites, retrogrades — is not so industrious as when enslaved, 
does not increase so fast, is less courteous — and bears in his 
countenance the infallible indicia of his circumstances bear- 
ing hard upon him. He is pensive, melancholy, and short- 
lived. The race have not the stamina, the substratum of 
self-support. The attrition of slavery is, however, a com- 
pulsory progression. They increase faster, live longer, are 
more developed physically, are more cheerful, and are con- 
sequently more in their normal state. Nothing but slavery 
can civilize them. It is well-known, by those that know 
them well, that the true nature of the negro reappears in 
them often, under certain circumstances — the cannibal, 
atheistic, cruel, regardless, conscienceless negro of Africa, 
■utterly uncivilized and degraded for centuries, with low and 
beastly proclivities — which nothing can extract from their 
blood but the compulsory industry and progression of 
slavery. Nations die, if not in their normal state, as cer- 
tain tribes of Indians are killed by civilization. The true 
and abvSolute essence of the Indian nature, not having vent, 
breaks and dies, but will not bend. Therein the negro 
differs. He is pliable, and can be civilized, and slavery is 
his civilization. 

To-day has been one of those remarkably bright and 
sunny days of Italy, in which heaven seems glad and the 
earth joyous. What a scene from the Pincian Hill, which 
overlooks the Piazza del Popolo, with its churches and 
their domes, and its great Egyptian obelisk of red granite, 
covered with hieroglyphics. It is seventy-eight feet high, 
and was brought from Egypt by Augustus, but having 
'fallen down in the middle ages, was broken into three 
pieces. It was re-erected nearly three hundred years ago. 
It originally stood before the Temple of the Sun, at Heli- 
opolis. Augustus rededicated it to the Sun. Of course it 
is now, like the others, surmounted by a cross. These 

2q2 



486 DOEIA PALACE. 

obelisks are the greatest wonders in Eome. They "have out- 
lived the gods and goddesses of three religions. On the 
populous plains of the Nile they adored the gods of Egyp- 
tian mystery. In ancient Kome they worshiped the refined 
mythology of Jupiter and Yenus. They now devote them- 
selves to the saints of Catholicism and the Virgin Mary. 
Defaced inscriptions on them of each era announce they 
were ''purged from a vile superstition." How each age 
libels the preceding! The temples of Pagan Kome were 
built into Christian churches, and the obelisks of Egypt 
have been taught to adore the Cross. The old Eoman in- 
scription remains on it. On the right, beyond the Tiber 
and the city walls, is Monte Mario, covered with dark 
cypresses. St. Peter's, with its grand dome, the strong, dark- 
looking, circular castle of St. Angelo, surmounted by a 
gigantic Archangel in bronze, in the act of sheathing his 
sword, are in front. On the left is the city, with its numer- 
ous church domes — that of the Pantheon in particular — 
dark, ancient, and grand. A fine band of musicians are 
about to perform iji the gardens, immediately in rear of 
the walled brow of the hill. The scene is most beautiful, 
both in its past and present, beneath this Italian sun. The 
musicians, more than sixty in number, with brass instru- 
ments, form a circle — they are in fine uniform — the leader 
stands in the centre, and their utterance of music swells 
over the mute, but expression-fall statues, like the wailing 
of Rome's past of glory. The crowd collect around, the 
red carriages of the cardinals, with their outriders, their 
servants leading riding horses, while my lord cardinal 
walks along the gravel paths, servants bearing their flowing 
trains. The costumes of various nations here, the long- robed 
and dark-cloaked priests, the groups of friends and tourists, 
all make a scene of rich interest. 

To-day, I have been in the Doria Palace, probably the 
most splendid of all the palaces in Rome — excepting those 



FEAST OF THE PUKIFICATION. 487 

of the Pope — this family retaining a portion of their ancient 
wealth and grandeur. There are fifteen or eighteen rooms, 
lofty and splendid, in which are contained eight hundred 
or more paintings, rare and old sculpture. The windows 
are hunsr with elesfant silk and satin curtains. The floors 

o o 

are, many of them, of magnificent mosaics. One grand 
hall is surrounded with costly Yenitian mirrors. Eich 
tables of various kinds of marbles are in each room ; lofty 
chandeliers sprinkle light from their numerous branches, 
and an air of tasteful and regal magnificence and elegance 
is diffused everywhere. The rooms are on the first floor, 
or in our country it would be called the second, and sur- 
round the court of the grand quadrangle. The paintings, 
with their gilt and gold frames, and various devices, are 
seen to great advantage. One, a Deposition from the Cross, 
struck me as remarkable; it is in a small cabinet. An- 
other, a Crucifixion, said to be by Michael Angelo, displays 
some of his rare power. There are some most splendid 
landscape paintings, surpassing any I have seen in Eome of 
that kind of painting — some by Claude, others by Caspar 
Poussin. The palace is in the form of an oblong square, 
surrounding a court yard, with colonnades. In this court 
are trees, flowers, statuary, and fountains. 

To-day, February 2d, has been quite a great day at St. 
Peter's. It was Candlemas, or the Feast of the Purification 
of the Virgin. We entered the church about half-past nine 
o'clock. The impression this grand church makes on the 
mind, is fitly compared by Lord Byron, " to climbing some 
vast Alp." About two hundred soldiers, in uniform, were 
drawn up on each side of the grand nave ; these kept the 
central part of the church clear, admitting, however, several 
thousands of persons, who stood outside their ranks, between 
the lofty columns and the numerous side chapels and aisles. 
The Pope's Guard, composed of the nobility of Eome, in a 
most splendid uniform, but a rather more showy than effi- 



488 CEREMONIES OF THE CHURCH. 

cient-looking body of men, were there also — and the Swiss 
Guard, also, in a most outre, middle-age-looking attire — and 
kept order, guarding the images, candles, columns, and 
every thing, from secular intrusion. The Pope came in, as 
before, in his gilded chair, borne aloft on the shoulders of 
twelve cardinals, dressed in tunics of magnificent red velvet ; 
he was himself also thus habited. He looked weary and 
weak, but rubicund ; he blessed the people, crossed himself, 
and muttered prayers as the splendid procession moved 
along, in the middle space, between the files of soldiers. 
Arrived near to the Grand Altar, over the crypt containing 
the bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul, and where now were 
immense wax candles burning, the Pope alighted, and the 
ceremony of blessing the candles soon commenced. The 
Pope first made the sign of the cross over them, then 
sprinkled them with incense, then with holy water, and it 
was done. Possibly five or six hundred candles were thus 
blessed. Then each person, with a candle in his hand — the 
Pope carried in his chair, bearing also a candle — went in 
procession around a space guarded by soldiers, near the 
Grand Altar, singing, or chanting, and the candles being 
lighted, the whole had a grand effect. After this, Grand 
Mass was performed, the Pope assisting, during which rich 
vocal music filled the air. In the High Mass, the Sacristan 
eats of the wafers, and drinks of the wine and water, pre- 
pared for the Papal High Mass, an immemorial custom, as 
a security, lest the Pope should be poisoned in using them, 
as has been the case, in history, when he partakes of the 
consecrated emblems. The Pope was then carried out, and 
the grand thing terminated. After the churches of Rome, 
and the ceremonies of Rome, there is nothing more of that 
kind remaining in the world worthy of being seen. The 
only thing left, is to come back again to Rome, and be again 
astonished. The proof of Christianity must always be in 
its practice — its effect on the heart. This is the ground it 



ST. Peter's. 48-9 

takes, as appealing to eacli one's personal experience, as to 
whether the practice of it does not make him better ; but 
whether such splendid ceremonies, these dresses flaming 
with gems, and these rites in reference to candles, have any 
enlightening effect on the mind, may well be questioned. 
The Catholic religion presents us with an imposing, ancient, 
venerable, infallible something, called the Church— to which 
you must be reconciled — in which salvation is possible, and 
out of which damnation is sure — it being a cardinal princi- 
ple that all Protestants are damned necessarily. This thing 
— the Church — is, in the aggregate, superior to the Bible, 
custom, history, and is itself the only authority ; and most 
splendidly is this assumption kept up. Many of the Italians 
here regard the whole thing as superstition ; that this 
machinery and mechanism of devotion are stale and worn 
out ; that they are rife for something else ; that it is be- 
lieved in only by the vulgar ; that the priests themselves do 
not all believe in it, and regard religion as a profession 
merely by which to live ; that the better and more intelli- 
gent class only attend church occasionally, in order to pre- 
vent being watched, and have spies set over them. Cathol- 
icism suits well, either a highly objective mind, as that of 
the lower orders in Europe, or a highly subjective mind, 
like that of a profound philosopher, who sees in its symbols 
the thing signified, and extracts the good from the evil. 
But the middle class of Europe, who will make themselves 
felt in its future, are not satisfied with it. These great, im- 
posing ceremonies, which have continued for more than 
twelve hundred years, and have all the sanction of venera- 
ble antiquity, have had their day, and will pass away. 
Doubtless there was some good in them ; they are power- 
fully impressive; and stripped of their adornments, they are 
commemorative imitations of the naked facts they relate to. 
They have therefore a value, and upstart ignorance could 
find in itself a more appropriate subject for ridicule than 



490 ST. Peter's. 

these ceremonies. Eeligion, it is true, is a tiling divine, and 
to all, and in all persons, essentially the same ; yet, it is 
equally true, that " he that takes it, makes it," that is, it re- 
ceives a form, a phase, a color, and a guise from the quali- 
ties of his own mind. It is thus that Christianity becomes 
Catholicism, and Protestantism becomes Lutheranism, or 
Methodism, or Presbyterianism. Keligion is a divine idea, 
knowledge, or fact, thrown into this world to operate on the 
mind and heart as a component part of the general experi- 
ence of humanity. It is an element in an enlargement of, 
and a direction to the human soul — a phase of progression, 
and a connection between this world and another. As it 
argues a higher elevation hereafter to its recipients, so does 
it entail a deeper suffering to those in contact with it, for 
the Universe is economical, and each thing has a value, a 
relation, a comparison, a compensation, a reverse and a real. 
Catholicism is full of ghosts and legends and relics — things 
coming out of the middle ages, and entrenching on the 
present. St. Peter's is always interesting, but on a grand 
occasion like this, is wondrous. You stroll about as if you 
were in a forest; you see confession boxes for penitents, in 
all languages ; you see the priests in them, blessing the 
children, and also grown persons, by long rods by which 
they touch their heads. The great, grim, bronze statue of 
St. Peter (said to have been formerly one of Jupiter) is 
kissed by the devotees. You see the sublime statues, 
chiseled out of marble by Canova, and the great mosaics of 
Eaphael's Transfiguration and Domenichino's Communion 
of St. Jerome, and other works, while the vast size, the 
height, the splendor of the church, the crowds of costumes 
and colors — for Catholicism admits all into the body of the 
church — impress you in a thousand ways. The only thing 
greater than Catholicism, is the simpleton who stands and 
laughs at it, and sees no virtue, nothing respectable, nothing 
true, but that to which he was brought up. The only thing 



THE QUIRINAL PALACE. 491 

smaller than notliing, is sectarian and narrow-hearted 
bigotr}^ and illiberality, that, instead of quietly learning, 
scornfally criticises. People are not puppets in the hands 
of fate, to be, or believe just what circumstances dictate, 
but they are wills, free within certain limits, and therein 
responsible ; and a Catholic, in his circumstances, may be 
as truly convinced of the truth of his creed as a Protestant 
in his, and both should respect the other, and not "judge, 
lest he be judged." 

To-day, February 4th, we visited the Quirinal Palace, the 
winter residence of the Pope. The day was truly lovely — 
one of those deeply blue-air skies of Eome. This palace is 
on the Quirinal Plill, one of the seven hills of ancient Rome. 
Special permission to visit it must be procured. It is here 
the conclave of cardinals sits to elect the Pope ; and from 
the balcony over the principal entrance the result of the 
election is announced to the people. As most of the other 
palaces of Rome, it is built in the form of a large quadran- 
gle, enclosing a spacious court between the walls. You 
pass up a large marble staircase, and you are shown by the 
polite Major Domo the various apartments — first, an im- 
mense, long and high hall, one hundred and ninety feet 
long, richly decorated; then into others — the throne-room, 
the audience-chatnbers, the Pope's bed-room, the splendid 
brass bed on which he sleeps, and on which Pope Pius VII. 
died ; then halls of embassadors, the dining-room and many 
others. The Pope always dines alone, except at a few 
stated times, when certain of the cardinals are admitted. 
His religious duties are all prescribed to him ; and if he 
does them he is no idler. Many of those halls have most 
splendid silk and satin hangings. They abound in mag- 
nificent ivory crucifixes. Some of the paintings are of 
superior excellence. One representing the "Annunciation," 
by Guido, struck me as very fine. A tapestry work of the 
French Gobelins' manufacture, representing St. Stephen, 



492 VILLA ALBANI. 

appeared to be a remarkable work. There are some mosaic 
floorS; extremely ancient and interesting, excavated from the 
ruins of the Emperor Hadrian's villa, near Tivoli, eighteen 
miles from Eome. From the palace we went into the Qui- 
rinal Gardens adjoining. These are very splendid. Very 
old live oak trees, box wood, hedges of great height cut so 
as to resemble perpendicular walls of verdure, magnolia 
treeS; palms, and many Oriental looking trees, orangeries 
and lemonries, with fruit in all stages; ancient sun-dials, 
statues, fountains, old Roman marble baths and sarcophagi, 
now serving as receptacles for plants ; cool, dark, shady 
recesses — all these are here in their beauty and interest. 
Descending a stairway leading to a lower part of the gar- 
den, we came to a small casino, in which is an organ, played 
by a water-wheel. The water is let on and off the wheel 
from a reservoir : the wheel is arranged somewhat like the 
wheel within a music box. Here also various fountains can 
be made to play in a moment, and in a manner most unex- 
pected by the beholder — some resembling an ascending 
brisk shower of rain ; statues of angels connected with the 
the organ blow trumpets, and the whole scene is like fairy 
land. Returning, we again strolled through the gardens, 
from which the view over Rome, with its numerous churches 
and the hills beyond, is very line, especially on a blue 
Italian day like the present. In front of the palace is a 
square, where there is a beautiful fountain, with equestrian 
statues, bearing the names of Phidias and Praxiteles ; they 
were probably dishumed from the ruins of Rome. 

To-day, February 5th, we visited the Yilla Albani, just 
outside the walls of Rome, by the Porta Salara. The walls 
of Rome are nearly fifteen miles in circuit, and those parts 
that 1 have seen are mainly of brick, with portions of the 
old Roman walls of stone appearing occasionally. There 
are strono- battlements and towers at short distances. But 
the walls look old and crumbling ; they are probably forty 



VILLA ALBANI. 493 

or fifty feet high. Much more of the ground inclosed by 
the walls consists of ancient ruins, villas and desert hills, 
than the modern city occupies. Entering the gates of the 
villa; to see which special permission must be obtained, you 
are amazed at the elegance and taste in which the grounds 
are kept. Long avenues of evergreen trees, forming an 
arch overhead; hedges of boxwood and other kinds, straight 
or square, with antique statues looking out of the vacant 
spaces in them ; circular walks, fountains, and every thing 
that wealth could devise, meet the eye. The villa itself is 
a modern house, built about a hundred years ago, having 
in front a splendid portico, with many columns of Oriental 
granite and marbles. There are no less than forty-four 
columns of various marbles. This portico contains numer- 
ous antique statues — one I noticed of Julius Caesar, who 
was a man probably of as much compact ability as any in 
antiquity. Ascending the grand staircase, v,^e were shown 
numerous and stately halls, containing collections of statuary 
regarded as inferior only to the Vatican and Capitol galle- 
ries. The French, during the reign of Napoleon, carried 
off nearly three hundred of the finest pieces of sculpture to 
Paris. At the downfall of Napoleon the Prince Albaui was 
allowed to reclaim them ; but being unable to sustain the 
expense of reconveying them, he sold the greater part to 
the King of Bavaria. Notwithstanding this reduction, this 
collection is still a most noble one. Paris, during the reign 
of Napoleon, had nearly all the chief treasures of art, both 
of painting and sculpture, that were in Europe. It was the 
object of the emperor to make Paris the most interesting 
city in the world. The mosaics, bas relievos, various kinds 
of marble columns, paintings by distinguished masters, and 
all kinds of Greek and Koman works of art — are all a study 
and all interesting. One bronze statue is shown as the work 
of Praxiteles. There is a most beautiful bust in bas relief 
in marble remarkably fresh looking and expressive — " An* 

2 E 



494 VILLA ALBANI. 

tinous crowned with lotus flowers," reckoned next after the 
"Laocoon" and ''Apollo Belvidere"of the Vatican in merit. 
There are hundreds of others — many of them of Koman em- 
perors and Greek writers — all remarkable for their clear, 
distinct, forcible, antique expressiveness — those of Esop, 
Scipio Africanus, Alexander the Grreat, Hannibal, Homer, 
aod Epicurus. These busts are generally ascertained to be 
what they are designated by their resemblance to faces in 
ancient times, or by some allusion to them in old writers, 
or some characteristic historically known. There are also 
sarcophagi with whole histories in allegory, urns, baths, 
Egyptian vases of rare material, relics of the mighty past 
of EomC; trophies found in the eternity of her ruins. Many 
of these have suffered in the rude attacks of the barbarians 
of the middle ages. The Campagna soil is full of pulverized 
marble statuary ; and the few that remain show us what the 
treasures and magnificence of the Eoman empire were, and 
especially what the skill and genius of the Greek artists 
were : for it is probable that many of the finest pieces of 
ancient statuary were the work of Greek artists settled in 
Eome. The Bigliardo, or Billiard Saloons, and the Coffee 
House are in other portions of the grounds, and, like the 
principal villa, are repositories of ancient art in profuse 
and melancholy grandeur. The villas around Rome are 
the creations of the cardinals, who, having no posterity, 
spend their wealth in surrounding themselves with taste 
and learned magnificence. None of the great Roman fami- 
lies of the present day can deduce their origin from the an- 
cient Romans — but generally arose in the middle ages from 
the Popes, who, having no issue, ennobled their nephews. 
This villa belongs at present to the Count Castelbarco, a 
Milanese nobleman, to whom it descended in the female 
line from the Cardinal Albani. Many of these villas are 
kept up, not as residences, but as mere appendages to the 
rank of those who own them. The custodi, to whom you 



VAULTS OF THE CAPUCCINI. 495 

give two or three pauls for showing them, is more benefited 
than the owner. One is almost astonished at the rich dis- 
play of various kinds of marbles in these villas, and the 
eye and mind grow weary with gazing at them. The views 
from the upper apartments of the Casino are line — embrac- 
ing the mountains, otlaer villas on the desert Campagna, 
dreary as a storm-tossed sea. 

Eeturning to the city, I entered the Church of the Capuc- 
cini, or the Capuchin Monks, on the Piazza Barberini. 
Here are some fine paintings ; one, the Archangel Michael 
fighting with Lucifer, a grand painting; also, one or two by 
that great master, Domenichino. There are some monu- 
ments to princes and cardinals ; an epitaph, in Latin, on one 
of the latter (Cardinal Barberini) is curious — " Here lie dust 
and ashes, and nothing else." There is a monastery attached 
to this church, as to many others in Eome. The brethren 
go about in their coarse, brown hoods and cloaks, with 
sandals on their feet, and no hat. Beneath the church is 
the cemetery, or crypt, the most horrid place I was ever in. 
Death here appears in all its frights. Approaching it, you 
see various, half-obliterated, Latin inscriptions, such as 
" Kespect the end," '' Vanity of vanities — all is vanity." 
The monk lights a lamp, and you enter a Golgotha in all 
its terrors, a place of skulls and dead men's bones. There 
is quite a number of these low, stone chambers connected 
with each other. Around the vaulted roof and along the 
sides, close together as possible, are fastened human bones. 
Piles of these also in regular order, like walls or pyramids, 
are all around, and fleshless skeletons stand in all directions. 
In each rooiii stand four or five skeletons of monks, with 
their black clothing on, a cross over their hearts, their right 
hand holding a small placard, on which are written their 
name and age and time of death. They all seem to grin 
horribly, ghastly, and deathfully in their decay and ruin. 
These occupy open spaces in the walls of bones. 'Tis a 



496 THE GEAVE OF NERO. 

fearful and hideous spectacle ! A lamp, the frame of which 
is of human bones, the skull forming the receptacle for the 
oil, hangs from the ceiling — a chandelier of human bones. 
The articles of furniture here are all of human bones. The 
earth, constituting the floor of this dreary place, was 
brought from Jerusalem. When a monk dies, he is put, 
with his ordinary clothes on, in the place of the skeleton 
longest here — the bones of which are then piled up with 
the others. The skinny corpses will have an expression 
about their fallen jaws, their white teeth, their heads to one 
side, their stretched-out fingers of bone, 'that is the perfection 
of the awful and horrible. They have rosaries around their 
necks, and seem to be praying in death. It is pleasaiat to 
get out of this charnel house, and see that the world is yet 
alive. It is a pleasant thing to be alive ; but must we all 
come to this ? 

To-day I have visited a church near the Porta del Popolo, 
at the base of the Pincian Hill. It has the usual garniture 
of a tomb pavement; it has splendid side chapels, with 
paintings of frescoes and mosaics, and an air of solemnity 
and death and dread, generally. This church is said to 
have been built on the place where the ashes of Nero were 
found, and scattered to the winds and destroyed, and where 
ghostly phantoms were seen at night, hovering around the 
place, to the great dread of the inhabitants. This church 
was then built to keep them down, and since its erection, 
they are seen no more. There is some painted glass in this 
church — the only thing of the kind to be seen in Rome — 
reminding one of the Gothic churches of England and Ger- 
many ; and there is also a statue of "Jonah, seated on a 
Whale," which is said to have been modeled by Raphael. 
With regard to the grave of Nero, it is a singular circum- 
stance, as related by some ancient writers, that for a long 
time there were some who strewed it with flowers, indicating 
that the ferocious, cool, reckless tyrant, must have had some 



GUIDO'S AUEORA. 497 

one really attached to him. I also visited a Casino, belong- 
ing to the Eospigliosi Palace, which contains on the ceiling 
the celebrated fresco by Guido — the Aurora. It is very 
beautiful. Some of the female portraits, representing the 
" Hours," are very graceful and lovely. The representation 
is a chariot, on which is seated a youth, personating the 
Sun ; the chariot is drawn by twelve horses, and preceded by 
a female figure, scattering beautiful flowers — the whole 
symbolizes Morning. There is also here a beautiful picture 
of Adam and Eve in Paradise, by Domenichino. In the 
garden are some very rare trees — some magnolias from our 
own clime ; there are fountains and old statues and arched 
promenades. Descending the Quirinal Hill, on which this 
palace is situated, one comes to the Tower of the Conti, 
built apparently from portions of a Eoman temple, the 
columns of which, with their bases manv feet below the 
present level, and their ornamented Corinthian capitals, and 
the ancient, mossy, massive remains, generally, are some of 
the nameless ruins one meets everywhere in Eorae — shat- 
tered and time-worn, as if ruin's self had breathed on them 
— yet still beautiful and respectable amid the dirt and filth 
and human ruins around. Further on, beyond the Coli- 
seum, rises the Ccelian Hill, on the slope of which are vast 
ruins of brick walls, with openings into underground apart- 
ments, overgrown with ivy and rank, luxuriant vegetation. 
These are the substructions of the Temple of Claudius. 
Above them is a row of dark cypresses. Below, toward 
the Coliseum, is a public promenade, planted with mulberry 
trees. Around, and on the Coelian Hill, near, are several 
churches and convents, into one of which I entered. The 
views of the arches and falling ruins here are very fine, 
embracing those of the Palatine Hill. It was here that the 
finest part of ancient Eome lay. The modern road yet 
passes under the arches of Titus and Constantine, Beyond 
the Coliseum, in the direction of St. John Lateran, is the 
82 2 R 2 



498 THE CARNIVAL. 

very old cTiurcli of St. Clemente, who is mentioned by St. 
Paul in his Epistle to the Eomans — this church being built 
on the site of his house. You see its flat, richly orna- 
mented ceilings, and its side rows of various kinds of 
columns^ probably, in some of the restorations of the 
church, filched from heathen temples. The floor is of 
numerous small pieces of variously colored marbles. Old, 
staring, mosaic figures look at you from the Tribune, back 
of the High Altar. They are of the Byzantine style of 
the middle ages, On each side of the nave are marble 
pulpits, from one of which the Gospels, from the other the 
Epistles were read, in the early Christian times. Several 
cardinals are buried here. In one of the chapels are inter- 
esting mosaics, representing the old legend about St. 
Catherine. 

To-day, Saturday, February 6th, began one of the great 
festivals of the Roman Church — the Carnival, or "farewell 
to flesh " — a time of feasting, fun, and recreation, prepara- 
tory to the forty days fast of Lent. The last eight days of 
the Carnival, which in reality begins on the first of January, 
are the most interesting, and it is those on which we now 
enter. The weather to-day has been unpropitious for the 
amusements, being cloudy and rainy. The Carnival began 
in form to-day, at twelve o'clock, as announced by the ring- 
ing of the great bell of the Capitol, which is rung but on 
this occasion, and on that of the death of the Pope. There 
was also the firing of cannon and a general display of the 
military ; and if there are any criminals to be executed, it is 
done on this occasion — the object being to impress every 
one duly in the first place that there is some law about, and 
inspire a wholesome terror. It has been remarked that the 
people of Rome are the gravest and most serious-looking 
people in the world. This may be a consequence of their 
inquisitorial government, or their dwelling on the grave- 
yard of a mighty empire. On this occasion, however, every 



THE CARNIVAL. 409 

^^one fools himself to tlie top of his bent." Soon after 
twelve o'clock, many open carriages, in which were seen all 
kinds of persons, or all kinds of dresses, the most fantastic 
and absurd imaginable, began to move along the Corso and 
principal streets. The city seems, however, relieved, as it 
were, and you feel a new impression everywhere. Every 
thing is allowed to be ridiculed, except the government and 
the religion. Those riding in the carriages were generally 
masked — some with a simple black covering over their face, 
others in half-mask, some with wire gauze over their faces, 
some with dominoes, some with vast pasteboard projections, 
intended to take off noses. In short, there is scarcely a 
feature or profession that w^as not caricatured. The dresses 
were very gay — flaring colors predominating — many of 
them trimmed with gold lace. Some essayed wit by appear- 
ing in curious hats of many shapes, and the whole population 
seemed inspired with harlequinism and odd fun. There 
were many bouquet sellers along the streets — ^the Campagna 
flowers being made into small bouquets .and sold to the 
revelers, with which they pelted each other as they passed in 
the streets, or were pelted from the balconies and windows 
above. Others had large baskets of comfits, made either 
of flour or else of lime, and some were made of small 
seeds, rolled in flour — the usual size was somewhat larger 
than a grain of wheat ; these were sold in great quantities, 
to throw on each other, directly in the face or on the cloth- 
ing, which latter soon became whitened by it, the mask pro- 
tecting the face. 

At various places along the streets, on the side walks, 
and in front of some of the palaces, are erected balustrades 
and seats along the different stories of the houses; these are 
let out at high rates to persons that wish to see with conve- 
nience. At the two ends of the Corso, the Piazza del Popolo 
and the Piazza Venezia, there were extensive, raised wooden 
structures, with seats or chairs, at two or three pauls each, 



500 THE CAENIVAL. 

for the evening ; by wliicli one has an extensive view of the 
proceedings. All these windows and balustrades were filled, 
and the roofs were almost covered with spectators. I allude 
to the Oorso, to which street the performances are princi- 
pally limited ; the other streets and parts of the city, except- 
ing the Yia Barberini, and the Via Condotti, and the Piazza 
di Spagna. being almost deserted. The Corso is about one 
mile long, extending from the Piazza del Popolo to the 
Piazza Yenezian a — the carriages passing to these two points, 
then returning, sustaining an attack of comfits and flowers 
from the windows and balconies all the way, which they 
returned with spirit. Carpets, flags, curtains, streamers of 
every kind, were hung from the balustrades along the street ; 
the ancient gloom of the city was gone, and an aspect of 
gayety most singular and exciting had arisen. About five 
o'clock the whole population of the city was assembled in 
the Corso, and along the narrow banquettes ; the military, 
who also occupied the entrance to every street from the 
Corso, and stood at each corner of every street, and occupied 
places in the square, then galloped up and down the Corso 
to keep a space in it vacant. All carriages were then in- 
terdicted, and a wall of packed humanity lined each side. 
Several races of dogs, in the first place; then about ten 
spirited horses, without riders, but with tin, metallic clap- 
pers, with goads or small spikes in them, bounding up and 
down on their backs, to urge them forward, were let loose 
from the Piazza del Popolo, and ran the whole length 
of the Corso to the Piazza Venezia, where they were 
stopped by carpets stretched across the streets. The judges 
sat near this, and decided which horse was the winner. The 
horses ran very fast ; they were small but spirited animals ; 
and the clattering of their feet on the paved Corso, and the 
cheering of the crowd, presented a scene enlivening and 
amusing. The prizes of the winners are squares of fine 
velvets; furnished by the Jews as the terms of their being 



HALL OF INSCRIPTIONS. 501 

allowed to live in the city. Formerly they were obliged to 
run themselves throusfh the streets for the amusement of 
the Christians. Since the revolution, or rather attempt at 
revolution in 1848, masking at the Carnival has been pro- 
hibited by the government. It is now allowed on certain 
days. The race terminates the public proceedings for the 
day ; the people disperse to more private, but perhaps less 
sinless diversions — a general relaxation of morals and vir- 
tue being expected during that time. 

To-day, Monday, February 8th, I strolled with some 
friends into the large Hall of Inscriptions in the Vatican 
Palace. It contains, on the right hand, Grreek and Roman 
monumental inscriptions, found in tombs ; on the left, simi- 
lar ones, found in catacombs and other places, of the early 
Christians. Many of them are remarkable for their very 
bad liatin or Greek, and also for their very incorrect orthog- 
raphy. Then, as now, it appears the schoolmaster was not 
perambulating miscellaneously, in other words "abroad," 
when monumental inscriptions were making. Some of the 
inscriptions are, however, inexpressibly touching. Some- 
times, on the Heathen ones, there is the whole name, and 
then the simple but beautiful Latin word, *' Vale ! Vale !" 
as if the farewell were understood to be eternal. In the 
Christian inscriptions there is more hope ; and the Greek 
word "Eirenes," or "Peace," is on many of them. We also 
walked again into St. Peter's. In one of the chapels on the 
right, when entering, is what is called a "Pieta" — the Vir- 
gin holding the dead Christ on her knees — a group in mar- 
ble, by Michael Angelo. The Virgin looks like a young- 
girl about fifteen. It is assumed in Catholic legend that 
she never grew old, but always continued young and beau- 
tiful. Perhaps it is in imitation of her that some of our 
American ladies never get beyond " a certain age." There 
are many monuments here to persons of great note. The 
splendid monument to Clement XIII., regarded as the finest 



602 DESCENT INTO THE CRYPT OF ST. PETEK^S. 

in the church, by Canova, is a splendid afiair in marble. 
The Pope is represented as praying : the Genius of Death, 
with his torch reversed, sits on one side; on the other^ is the 
fio-ure of Religion holding the cross. The lions at the an- 
gles are most beautiful creations, Gregory ISTazianzen is 
buried in this church. The three " Pretenders," the last of 
the royal house of the Stuarts, have a beautiful monument 
here by Canova, They deserve it as well as any, having 
lost the throne of Great Britain for Catholicism. It is said 
the expense of this monument was defrayed by those who 
profited by the downfall of the Stuarts — the house of Han- 
over. The monuments to the Popes are generally at the 
expense of the cardinals created during their reign. In 
one of the chapels is a column, said to have been brought 
from the Temple of Jerusalem, and to be that on which 
Christ leaned when disputing with the Doctors. There is 
but one oil painting in St. Peter's — the "Fall of Simon 
Magus" — the rest are all mosaics and frescoes. The length 
of St. Peter's in the interior is six hundred and thirteen 
feet. The length of the transepts across the church is four 
hundred and forty -six feet. 

To-day, February 11th, we descended into the crypt, or 
subterraneous grotto, underneath St. Peter's Church. The 
priest took a torch, and opening a door in one of the colos- 
sal columns, preceded us down a winding marble staircase. 
"We passed through numerous and narrow corridors, on 
each side of which were numerous and very ancient bas 
reliefs in marble — some mosaics and paintings by distin- 
guished masters. Every thing here was marble and splen- 
dor, underneath as above. Occasionally we stopped before 
little chapels to some saint, in which lamps were burning, 
shedding a dim light through the tomb-like darkness rest- 
ing on the dwellings of the dead. We were shown the 
shrine in which rest the bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul. 
They rest side by side immediately under the great dome, 



DESCENT INTO THE CRYPT OF ST. PETER'S. 503 

Protestants ridicule relics, but a uniform tradition of 
fifteen hundred years in duration* is at least respectable. 
Advancing, the apartments grew lower; the air much 
more suffocating ; every thing plainer and more ancient- 
looking ; the pavement ceased to be of marble, and looked 
more antique and Koman, and some of the low vaults and 
arches required stooping. This is the Grotte Yecchie, the 
crypt of the ancient Basilica, or church erected here by 
Constantine more than fifteen hundred and fifty years ago, 
which stood for more than one thousand years, when the 
present church was begun. In the times of the emperors 
Nero's Circus stood here. The bodies of St. Peter and 
St. Paul were removed to this crypt from the catacombs of 
St. Calisto in the fourth century. We saw around us, in 
the dim, dull light, graves in grandeur of Popes and 
German emperors of ages gone. Some in large and splen- 
did or Oriental sarcophagi. Some of the stone coffins are 
very large and plain; others have sculptured on the lid the 
marble effigy of the sleeper beneath. We saw the urns of 
the Stuart family. The inscriptions on them call them 
James III., Charles III., and Henry IX., Kings of England, 
France, Ireland, etc. The Pretender and his brothers, the 
last of whom died Cardinal York, expelled from England 
for being Catholics, justly sleep here in the proudest fane 
of the Catholic world — having lost a kingdom and dynasty 
for that religion. The bodies of many Popes, among them 
that of the wickedest of men, Alexander VT., rest here. 
There are around numerous sacred places — stones inclosed 
in iron gratings, which on sundry occasions have asserted 
miraculous powers by spouting blood ; sacred relics ; an- 
tique crosses, old and almost extinct frescoes of the Virgin, 
one thousand years old, that look at you with ghostly, 
fading loveliness, and that have miracle-working powers. 
The numerous corridors and chapels have iron doors, which 
the monk opened with his keys. You feel almost, indeed, 



504 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

when down there, as if it were a holy shrine. What a 
compensation in such a church having been built on the 
spot where stood Nero's Circus. Coming up into the mag- 
nificent sunlit church above, what a change ! No women 
are allowed to go down into the crypt except after comply- 
ing with certain prerequisitions, stating their object is 
devotional. 

"We also revisited the Sistine Chapel, and gazed long at 
the powerful fresco of the Last Judgment, sixty feet long 
by thirty in breadth, and three hundred and thirty-six years 
old. It is much defaced by neglect. It is an aspect of the 
Judgment in which there is little mercy and much ven- 
geance. Yet it is most grand, notwithstanding the severe 
censure it has received. Faces of more unmitigated horror, 
agony, and despair, were never depicted. Serpents twist 
and twine in relentless folds about the wicked. Some sit in 
unimaginable despair and silent endurance. The great 
Judge of all is represented in an attitude of decisive, mighty 
power, from which there is no appeal, and whose dictates 
are eternal. You would expect to be damned as you look 
at it. It is a dreadful subject in the hands of a master. 
Michael Angelo was a man of fierce power. No Pope 
could rule him, but he ruled them. One of them thought 
the figures in the Last Judgment were too nude, and was 
advised to make Michael Angelo drape them. Michael 
Angelo replied, '^ Let the Pope go on and reform the world, 
and then the figures will reform themselves." But by sug- 
gestion of one of the fastidious cardinals, an eminent 
painter was employed to drape some of the figures. Upon 
which, Michael Angelo introduced the cardinal's likeness 
into the painting, in the hottest part of hell, encircled with 
serpents. On the cardinal's complaining to the Pope, 
Michael Angelo said^Uhe Pope could not deliver him, for 
he had put him in hell, over which the Pope had no 
power." It has been suffered to remain, and is the figure 



THE CAKNIVAL. 505 

in the right and lower corner of the picture. One of the 
Popes paid Michael Angelo an honor which in form is with- 
out parallel, in visiting him at his house, attended by the 
cardinals. The Pope of course never visits any but crowned 
heads. On the roof of the chapel, and around the frieze, 
are frescoes also by Michael Angelo ; they represent the 
Creation, the Eternal Father calling the world out of 
chaos, Paradise, the Expulsion of Adam and Eve, Sibyls, 
Prophets and Apostles. These are wondrous works also, 
and, as paintings, are regarded as superior to the "Last 
Judgment." 

The Carnival goes on, notwithstanding the rainy weather. 
You see a narrow but splendid street, lined on each side 
with noble houses and palaces, from every window of which 
are suspended balconies, from which hang curtains, carpets, 
or tapestry, red, white, and gilt materials, from the front of 
each, along the streets. In the balconies, and on all the 
superstructures, stalls, and galleries along the streets, are 
ladies, girls, women — gentlemen, boys, men, dressed in red 
and white, masked and unmasked; some with loose, white 
linen wrappers on, and painted hoods — all in fun, frolic, 
immense enjoyment — all in high blood, health, and merri- 
ment — all classes, from the highest to the lowest, meeting 
on the common ground of enjoyment. They have numer- 
ous small, light missives, bouquets, flowers, small colored 
comfits, of which there is a great manufacture for this occa- 
sion — also small pieces of paper; these they have in a 
basket by their side, and shower down on the people below, 
who, as well as the passers in carriages, attack them in re- 
turn. Everybody knows everybody, and everybody pelts 
everybody. The ends of the streets terminating in the 
Corso look like flower gardens, on account of the great 
quantity of bouquets in baskets for sale. Carriages continu- 
ally pass along the streets, filled with maskers in all man- 
ner of ugliness, in fantastic dresses, between whom and 

2s 



506 ST. ONOFRIO. 

those on the balcooies wages a war of fun, frolic, and 
frivolity. About half-past four o'clock a procession of 
splendid, red, gilt, and crimson carriages of the cardinals, 
preceded by a band of musicians, and attended by the 
Pope's guard of young nobles, on horseback, passed 
through the Corso. The first carriage contained the Senator 
of Eome, a person appointed to hold office during a term 
of six years. A company of dragoons, in splendid uniform, 
also rode by. The street was thus cleared ; the race horses 
were then brought out in an enclosure near the Egyptian 
obelisk, in the Piazza del Popolo; the rope between them 
and the Corso was then dropped, a cannon fired, the crowd 
shouted, and as the horses carried almost a tinner's shop of 
clappers, rappers, flippers, stickers, and prickers on their 
backs, it may presumed they burst forward. I witnessed 
the race this evening from the top of the Pincian Hill. 
Unfortunately, the other evening, a man was killed by one 
of the horses, when springing forward. The whole scene is 
one of innocent and joyous mirth. The police and soldiery 
are stationed all along the streets, and instantly arrest or 
fine those who throw larger bouquets or missives than those 
of the legal allowance. Some Americans of our acquaint- 
ance were fined twenty-five dollars for being too strongly 
and heavily funny. 

To-day we visited the church of St. Onofrio, with its con- 
vent, on the summit of the Janiculum Hill. The way is 
along a dull, narrow, dirty, lonesome-looking street, extend- 
ing up the hill. The view over all parts of the city is very 
good — the Castle of St. Angelo, once the Mausoleum of the 
Emperor Hadrian — the orange groves around on the near 
hills — the Tiber and the valley below, and in the distance 
the Sabine hills covered with snow. We entered the damp, 
sepulchral-like lonely church, all paved with tomb-slabs. 
We stood by the side of the splendid new monument, where 
repose the bones of Torquato Tasso, the great Italian poet. 



ST. ONOFRIO. 507 

In the gardens around here he walked and peacefullj passed 
away the latter years of his life — he who, for loving a prin- 
cess, was thrust, as deranged, into the dungeons of Ferrara. 

" I was indeed delirious in my heart 
To lift my love so lofty as tliou art ; 
But thou, when all that birth and beauty throws 
Of magic 'round thee is extinct, shalt have 
One half the laurel that o'ershades my grave ! 
Yes, Leonora, it shall be our fate 
To be entwined forever — but too late !" — Bykox. 

In a room, kept almost in a sacred manner, we saw a cast 
in wax of his head; his princely brow bears the stamp of 
genius. It was taken just after his death. We also saw 
his belt, and his inkstand, and his crucifix. This is the cell 
in which he lived and died. He died in 1595, at the age of 
fifty-one. The monks afforded him an asylum here. We 
passed into the convent, up the staircase, and along the 
brick-paved corridors, with the cells of the brothers on each 
side. They live and dress very plainly, watch each other, 
pray to the Virgin, work, sing doleful chants, say Mass, lead 
a joyless, but calm, gentle, useless sort of life, and then are 
buried in the vaults of the church, and their chance of sal- 
vation is the greater the nearer they can get to the High 
Altar. There are some frescoes here by Domenichino. 
Cardinal Mezzofanti, the great master of languages, who 
probably knew more languages than any one man who ever 
lived, rests here. The inhabitants of this side of the Tiber 
claim to be the only direct descendants of the ancient 
Eomans, though much the larger part of the city is on the 
other side. They refuse to intermarry with any others than 
those living on their side. On this side of the river I saw 
the handsomest lady I have yet seen in Europe. She had 
that modest, full, reserved kind of beauty one sometimes 
sees — the dark, clear eye, the elevated expression, the soft, 
brunette complexion, and then that covering of soul, that 



508 SANTA MARIA DEGLI ANGELI. 

nameless, natural grace and elegance whicli constitute the 
highest charm of female loveliness. I saw her but a few 
moments — shall never see her again — but she left the im- 
pression of a Eoman lady, an unopened volume of soft and 
bright thoughts. 

To-da}^, Friday, February 12th, there is no Carnival. 
The day is very lovely and clear after the late rains. We 
visited, to-day (the " we," at present, consists of myself and 
two traveling friends, one a gentleman from England, the 
other from New York), the great church of Santa Maria 
degii Angeli. It is a splendid church in the interior, being 
in the form of a Greek cross, and was constructed by 
Michael Angelo, out of parts of the Baths of Diocletian. 
The exterior looks like extensive ruins of rough Koman 
brick-work. Within, the church has a beautiful and smooth 
marble floor, numerous and excellent paintings, some fine 
statues, and it has also a number of ancient Egyptian 
columns of granite, which supported the grand hall of the 
Baths of Diocletian, now converted into this church. The 
houses of the palace, with the baths, are stated to have been, 
in the reign of Diocletian, a mile in circuit, and to have 
employed the labor of forty thousand Christians, who, as 
slaves, were compelled to labor in their erection, and it is 
said, though perhaps on insufficient authority, that some of 
the bricks have been found with the mark of the cross on 
them. The introduction of the cross, however, as a symbol 
of Christian worship, is thought to have occurred much 
later. Eight columns in this church are of the ancient edi- 
fice. They are of one piece — are forty-five feet high, and 
sixteen in circumference. It was in the reign of Diocletian 
that the last and most dreadful of all the ten general perse- 
cutions of the Christians occurred. He afterwards resigned 
the empire, which he had governed with great wisdom, and 
died in honorable obscurity. The buildings out of which 
this church was constructed, are sixteen hundred and fifty 



STUDIO OF CEAWFORD. 509 

years old. Adjoining the cliurch is the very extensive 
Carthusian convent. One of the monks, in a white, blanket- 
looking cloak, and small cap, Avhich he took off whenever 
he came to an image of the Yirgin, or an altar, led us 
around the large cloisters^ which are covered arcades, sup- 
ported by carved pillars, enclosing the gardens of the con- 
vent. The cloisters being secluded on all sides, except 
toward the gardens, afford an admirable place for the monks 
to walk in during rainy weather, and meditate and study 
their breviary. In the centre of the garden grow around 
a fountain four very large cypress trees, planted by 
Michael Angelo, three hundred and forty years old. Orange 
trees, bending beneath their yellow, golden fruit, are all 
around ; the birds sing on the branches, and the fresh and 
pleasant sunlight casts a soft splendor on the ruins as we 
wander through them. Near this church is the studio of 
the late lamented American sculptor, Crawford, recently 
dead. We entered it and saw numerous casts, and some 
statues, reminding us very much of our own country and 
its statesmen. There are still some men at work in his 
studio, all Italians, finishing the works to which the chisel 
of Crawford will never be applied again. We saw vari- 
ous models or casts in plaster — the cast or model being 
first made, and the sculptor working at the marble with the 
cast before him. We saw " Adam and Eve," a most beauti- 
ful finished group in marble, a little boy and girl intently 
examining a bird's nest. This seemed to me very beautiful, 
probably as beautiful as any modern statuary I have seen. 
There is also an extensive cast of an allegoric representa- 
tion of the progress of civilization in our country, a noble 
statue of Beethoven, and many others. From this, our walk 
lay toward the Porta San Lorenzo, through long lanes, on 
each side of which are high walls enclosing gardens and des- 
olate villas over ruins — this part of the city being scarcely 
inhabited at all. Near the Porta, or gate, are vast ruins 

2s2 



510 TEMPLE OF MINEEVA MEDICA. 

of aqueducts on liigli, brick arches. The gate of the city- 
walls is a low arch, built of very large stones. Above it are 
Latin inscriptions of the fourth or fifth century. The gate 
has two old towers. The view from this out into the Cam- 
pagna, once so flourishing with villas, and so populous and 
fertile, shows a vast, undulating, ruinous waste, apparently 
yet fertile, but in ruins only, and earth- weary and fallen. 
The old, thick, patched-up city walls, with towers of square 
brick- work at short distances, the upper parts of both walls 
and towers falling into ruins, the work, it is said, of Stilicho, 
one of the able generals of Justinian, in the fifth century, 
when the might of empire was departing from Rome — when 
she be2;an to feel the weakness of old as^e — when the north- 
ern hordes, like a dark cloud, were preparing desolation for 
her ancient grandeur — when the night of the middle ages 
and of superstition was coming on. This was after Con- 
stantine had removed the seat of empire to Constantinople. 
This wall is seen winding around the vast open space, where 
was once a populous city, but where are now only ruins, 
vacant villas, and dark avenues of orange trees, leading, 
perhaps, to some old chapel or deserted temple. Passing 
along the Via San Bibiana, we came to a gatew^ay leading 
into a garden, in which are strewn numerous ruins of ruins, 
but in the centre of which rises, covered almost with ivy, 
mantling the scars and seams of ruin, and with evergreen 
trees, one of the most picturesque ruins of Rome — the 
Temple of Minerva Medica — about sixteen hundred years 
old. The thick brick walls, ten sided, surround a circular 
space and support a dome, much of the latter being fallen 
in, and the walls of the sides being crushed and time-rent. 
It was, in old days, lined with marble and adorned with 
statues and altars. Few ruins seemed to me more impres- 
sive than this ivy-grown desolation. The malaria is rapidly 
depopulating this part of the city, and marching on the 
other parts also, with a silent step, but more fatal and resist- 



THE CAENIVAL. 511 

less than those of the Goths and Yandals, and from the ruin 
effected by it there is no resurrection. Returning by the 
ruins of the Trophies of Marius, and other vast remains of 
Eoman aqueducts, lofty, inspiring, and sublime in the gray 
age of ruin, we soon reached the modern city. 

To-day, Saturday, February 13th, has been one of the 
soft, pleasant, sunny,' and rather relaxing days of Rome. 
The Carnival, after the temporary cessation of yesterday, 
was resumed this afternoon with great spirit. The military 
were everywhere, to preserve order — dragoons, with drawn 
swords, being stationed in the middle of every street, and 
at short distances from each other. The carriages were 
numberless, insomuch they were ordered by the police to 
file up the Yia Condotti to the Piazza di Spagna, there turn 
and come down again to the Corso, thus much lengthening 
the distance and time. Masking was not allowed today, 
there being but two days this year on which it is permitted, 
Thursday and next Tuesday. Most persons, however, wear 
a thin gauze over their faces, to protect them from the com- 
fits, which were constantly thrown in handfuls on them. 
Some of the comfits are made of small seeds or berries 
rolled in lime or flour, and are sold at three baiocchi (about 
a cent) per pound. Small bouquets, which were very 
numerous, are sold at a paul (about ten cents) each. The 
carriages were full of Italians of all classes ; the rather pen- 
sive, subdued, confiding, and earnest beauty of the higher 
ranks was pelted as well as the common classes, and the 
reward was a smile or a bouquet thrown. A stream of car- 
riages passed up one side of the street, another down, the 
inmates of which pelted each other, and both were pelted 
from the windows and balconies above. All was democracy, 
enjoyment, and an irrepressible outburst of pent-up hilarity. 
The Carnival is peculiarly Italian, and has never suc- 
ceeded in any other country. The appearance of the Corso, 
its gay hangings of red, white, and gilt, the numerous car- 



512 CATACOMBS. 

riages witTi the strange, flaunting dresses, tne gay, pretty- 
girls, all aspiring to every shape, form, and color of oddity, 
the bouquet sellers, vendors of chairs or lodges to sit or stand, 
the horses flying with the rattling tin clappers to urge them 
on — all seemed to make old Eome glad in her gray age, and 
she seemed to have put on the habiliments of youth and 
former years, and to have forgotten the stern, mouldering 
ruins of her bosom, and to have dressed herself in tinsel for 
a brief gladness. They show the same abandon their 
ancestors did when the attraction was the exposing of the 
Christians to the wild beasts in the Coliseum. 

To-day I rode out on the Campagna, passing out by the 
Porta Sebastiana, near which, on the side of the walls next 
to the city, is the very ancient arch of Drusus — the founda- 
tion of it being of large blocks of volcanic rock — the road 
passes under it, and there is the usual garniture of green 
vines and ivy around it. Passing the gate, the view of the 
battlemented and macchiolated walls of brick and stone, 
with the mouldering buttresses, is very striking. On the 
Via Appia you are surrounded with relicts and remnants 
of ruins ; brick aqueducts for miles stretch over the Cam- 
pagna, falling and crumbling at various places ; other re- 
mains attest the former existence of great circuses ; other 
round brick walls are called the tombs of various emperors, 
defying the crumbling hand of time — the now yellow, thick 
ivy waves like long, yellow hair over the ruins, as the 
breeze comes by, seeming to threaten the evanescent 
mortals that come to inspect such gigantic ruins. One such 
pile of picturesque ruin, with the thick ivy around it, 
rattling over the cold bricks like an aged monster shaking 
his locks, seemed to me one of the most singular and ex- 
pressive ruins in this ruin land. It is near the Catacombs 
of St. Calisto. AVe again entered, further on, the Cata- 
combs of St. Sebastian, getting a monk, the ugliest of 
mortals, to conduct us through the grim retreats of death. 



TOMB OF CECILIA METELLA. 613 

Descending many steps, we came to the long, winding pas- 
sages, tlirough which no stranger could ever find his way 
or return. They extend to the Mediterranean, sixteen miles. 
They are the most fearful places imaginable. At first we 
heard the rumbling of carriages on the Yia Appia, just 
over head — a thin layer of volcanic rook between — this 
died away as we descended, lower and lower, for the Cata- 
combs are in some places four stories deep. The church 
itself is built directly over them. We came to apartments 
where they sang and prayed two thousand years ago, where 
they brought the bodies of martyrs and interred them in 
niches in the sides of the halls and passages, walling them 
up and cementing the lids. They had nothing here but 
cold walls, dens — nothing but God, religion, and a hope of 
resurrection. After being in Catacombs under Catacombs 
deeper than we went before, we were quite glad to reascend 
to the light of day from these dreary sepulchres. The 
whole Appian Way was full, above and below ground, of 
tombs — below, the humble ones of the Christians — above, 
those of the proud Romans. The most remarkable tomb 
of all antiquity, is that of Cecilia Metella, a little further 
on, now surmounted by feudal battlements and additions of 
the warlike middle ages, when it was converted into an 
impregnable fortress. About it are many smaller buildings 
of the middle ages, and opposite are the remains of an old 
Gothic church, the only one of that style I have seen in 
Rome. It resembles some of the old churches in England, 
but is an utter ruin. The tomb is circular, about seventy 
feet across, and the inscription on a marble tablet, next to 
the Yia Appia, is afFectingly simple, " To Cecilia, daughter 
of Qu. Creticus, wife of Metellus Crassus." 

" Metella died— 
The wealthiest Roman's wife — behold his love or pride •/' 

Her ashes have long since gone into common dust, and her 
33 



514 OBSEQUIES OF A CARDINAL. 

sarcophagus (supposed to be the one in the Farnese Palace) 
is problematical ; her tomb has been made a fortress of, and 
now frowns over that sea of ruins, the Campagna. Yet it 
is beautiful and symmetrical in its strength, and a soft 
influence of tenderness and affection seems to linger over 
the place after all the tumults of war and the conflicts of 
nineteen centuries. 

To-day, Monday, February 15th, I attended the funeral 
obsequies of a cardinal, who died on Friday. ■ The celebra- 
tion took place in the church of San Marcello, where the 
family of the deceased had a vault. The noble church was, 
in the interior, draped with splendid black velvet, edged 
and trimmed and barred with gilt and gold. A monk was 
mumbling some ceremonies in each chapel as I entered. In 
the middle of the aisle was a splendid hearse, covered with 
a gorgeous pall of velvet, and around it were several 
hundred wax candles burning. The Pope being expected, 
though, he did not come on account of the somewhat 
•unpleasant weather, a splendid canopy, under which was a 
throne, was prepared for him; his grandly attired Swiss 
Guard were also present. The cardinals came in one by 
one, an attendant bearing their long trails. Each one had 
on a small, circular, red cap. They approached the bier — 
a priest handed to each a censer, kissing the hand of each — 
the cardinal swung the censer several times toward the bier, 
then handed the censer to the attendant, who kissed his 
hand again on receiving it. Another priest held a large 
book before him, in which he read aloud a few words, then 
he passed to his seat in the other part of the church. Each 
cardinal having performed this process, the chanting began 
— a wild and rather painful, and occasionally musical strain 
— after which the interment took place. The cardinals are 
nearly all old men, apparently well fed and hearty. It is 
said in Rome they always die by threes. Two others are, 
therefore, expected to die soon. There are six cardinals of 



STUDIOS. 515 

tlie order of bishops, forty-six of the order of priests, and 
tv/elve of the order of deacons. They are princes of the 
church — the number is limited to seventy — the Pope fills 
up all vacancies that occur. The cardinals constitute the 
Sacred College who elect the Pope — they are shut up till 
they agree — the voting is secret. The result is determined 
by two thirds of a majority, subject to a privilege possessed 
by Austria, France, and Spain, to impose a veto each, on 
one candidate. The Pope is required to be a cardinal, and 
an Italian by birth. The income of the Papal States is 
about twelve million dollars — the expenses more than thir- 
teen million. The Pope's private expenditure is about 
sixty thousand dollars. There are said to be, at present^ 
about two thousand Englishmen and Americans in Rome — 
the former being about four fifths of that number. The 
expenses of these average about five dollars per day, and 
perhaps ten dollars would be a fair average, as there are 
many of the English nobility who keep up extensive, and 
consequently expensive establishments. The foreigners 
mainly sustain the hotels, shops, artists, workers in mosaics, 
sellers of paintings new and old, etc. 

To-day we visited some of the artists' studios — principally 
Americans. Some of these, without doubt, pursue a very 
high style of art, for we found them on the fifth story. In 
Mr. Chapman's studio, we saw a most beautiful, fresh, and 
inspiring work, the "Four Seasons." In T. Buchanan 
Read's studio, we saw several very beautiful works — one a 
kind of ''Nymph of a Waterfall," in which there is both 
poetry and her sister art, painting, blended. The manner 
in which the vapory particles become drapery around the 
central female figure is exquisite in idea and admirable in 
execution. In Mr. Bartholomew's studio — he is an Ameri- 
can sculptor — we saw a statue which is certainly a grand 
and splendid work — Eve in her beautiful sorrow — certainly 
a statue of most superior excellence. Mr. B. is a pale. 



516 KOME. 

thonghtful- looking, genius -gifted man. In the studio of 
Mr. Gibson, an English sculptor, we saw a beautiful statue 
of Yenus, painted a flesh color. The ancient Greeks 
painted some of their marble statues the color of life, but 
the practice is very rare in modern art. The combination 
of the two arts seems an improvement, and this beautiful 
statue seems a thing to love and live for. 

But to-day, February 16th; was the last and greatest day 
of the Carnival. In the morning I visited the church, 
Santi Maria della Pace, where is one of Eaphael's celebrated 
paintings — the "Four Sibyls." It is an interesting work, 
but probably not much of Kaphael remains after some three 
hundred years, and occasional retouching by other artists. 
Michael Angelo said of it, that each head was worth one 
hundred kingly crowns. The faces have an extraordinary 
depth of meaning in them. On a chapel in this church is 
written, that for every Mass said in that chapel, one soul is 
released from purgatory. In a large and splendid church 
on the Yia Ripetta, near the Tiber, I saw Raphael's 
" Isaiah," an expressive and grand face. There are some 
other very fine paintings here, and some statuary. The 
Tiber along this part of the citj^ looks most old and desolate, 
and the people very degraded and miserable. One of the 
streets I entered here is called the " Via di Inferno " — the 
"■ Street of Hell." Kot far from this I saw the remains of 
the Mausoleum, where the Emperor Augustus Caesar was 
buried, and many of his family. The remains consist of 
parts of the reticulated walls, being small, square stones, set 
upright in one corner in the shape of a diamond, or ex- 
>tended net. It is surrounded by mean houses and thor 
voughly filthy streets, obnoxious to every sense, and is now 
used as a cock-pit. Such is the grave of Augustus, and 
such is the end of the great. Though all the streets of 
Rome are well paved with hard lava, or volcanic blocks of 
-Stone, and the revenues of the city amount to nearly a mih 



THE CAKNIVAL. 617 

lion of dollars per annum, yet the government seizes ou 
tlie greater part of this sum, leaving but little to be applied 
for cleansing purposes. The filth, therefore, of Eome is 
fearful. 

At two o'clock the Carnival was resumed, and the old 
city seemed glad and happy as in its youth of two thousand 
years ago. The bright sun of Italy cast its gladness from 
the sky. The procession of carriages began to move up 
and down the Corso, the Via Condotti, the Piazza di Spagna, 
filled with gay masqueraders, throwing and receiving 
bouquets, pelted from windows and balconies, pelting in 
return, receiving showers like snow of confetti, and all in a 
state of magnificent gayety. All kinds of masks were in 
motion, though it is strictly forbidden to caricature either 
priests or soldiers — the two principal elements of Eome — 
yet even these were sometimes slightly "taken off," as far 
as they dared; but Englishmen, Jews, Turks, demons, old 
women, were all represented in long groups of masquera- 
ders in most outre costume. The great press and crowd of 
two hundred thousand people on the Corso, defied descrip- 
tion. A group might be found in some places listening to 
an improvised recitation of some of the rythmical and 
musical Italian poetry with singular and impassioned ges- 
tures. There were others from the depths of the Sabine 
Mountains, from lone deserts of the Campagna, historic- 
looking creatures, dwelling where nations had perished — 
beings whose ancestry antedated Eome — all meeting and 
mingling together. Men apparelled in women's clothing, 
or theatrical dresses, in most rich and gaudy colors — all 
laughing, all enjoying. At half-past five o'clock the street 
was cleared by the dragoons, and the usual horse race took 
place — some seven or eight horses running with the tin 
apparatus at their backs. This being over, the carriages 
returned to the Corso, and the scenes continued. But when 
the beautiful hues of an Italian sunset, in the midst of which 

2 T 



518 THE CARN"IVAL. 

appeared the virgin moon, had given place to ansk, on a 
sudden the whole length of the Corso, all the windows, 
balconies, and even the roofs of the tall palaces, glowed with 
a hundred thousand lights, the passers in the carriages — the 
one stream advancing up, the other returning — all holding 
small candles, or tapers, made for this purpose, of waxed 
candle wick, and sold in long rolls — each one having pro- 
vided himself with a supply. The scene then would have 
beggared description, but it soon beggared imagination. 
They all began to endeavor to extinguish each other's lights 
and preserve their own, throwing bouquets on them, or 
handsful of comfits; and those on the balconies had long 
poles, to which were attached handkerchiefs, with which 
they put out the lights of those below them, while at the 
same time their own were perhaps put out by a similar 
means by those above them. The lights were relit imme- 
diately, and thus the good-humored, laughing war continued 
for two hours. The beautiful Italian girls in the excite- 
ment and pleasure, their fresh complexions and black eyes, 
all showed to great advantage in the soft and varied light. 
Each exclaimed, as he put out the light of any one, ''Senza 
moccolo !" " Without a light !" and while putting out the 
light of one, his own was sure to be extinguished by an- 
other. This is called putting out the Carnival, and such a 
scene of revelry and noise and vast confusion, crowding, 
laughter, brilliant gayety, madness, Avild excess, and joyous 
disorder is perhaps nowhere paralleled, except here. But 
about eight o'clock it was all over. The two hundred 
thousand people on the Corso were all gone, the lights all 
put out, the crushed, flower-strewn pavement was untrod- 
den, the Carnival was done, a gloom and gravity came upon 
every brow, and Eorne assumed the silence, the stateliness 
and majesty that became such a sepulchre of the " things 
that were." 



ASH WEDNESDAY. 519 

To-day, February 17th, is Ash Wednesday, and now 
begin the forty (iays of Lent, or fasting, and repentance 
succeeds the diversions of the Carnival. The ceremony of 
the Pope blessing the ashes took place in the Sistine 
Chapel. A dress coat is an absolute prerequisite for admis- 
sion. There was a crowd assembled, as usual, of soldiers 
and ecclesiastics — Englishmen and Americans drawn to- 
gether by curiosity, or devotion — many ladies also; but 
these are not allowed to be near the pi-incipal ceremonies, as 
a punishment for the sin committed some time ago in the 
garden of Eden by grandmother Eve. The Pope came in 
wearing, as usual, the triple crown, or tiara, denoting the 
union of the imperial, royal, and spiritual power; there 
was the usual bowing and kneeling, and High Mass went 
on; there was appropriate music, and the Pope read in a 
very audible manner from a large book, in Latin, which was 
held before him, others holding lighted candles, which are 
always important parts in the EomJsh service. The Pope 
then took his seat on a throne underneath a canopy; tbe 
cardinals one by one advanced and knelt before him. The 
Pope took some ashes in his fingers, placed his right hand 
on their heads, and then sprinkled ashes very slightly, say- 
ing, in Latin, something like the following : " These are 
ashes, thou art ashes, and remember that thou wilt return 
to ashes." Each then arose, kissed the Pope's hand or robe 
with great unction, then bowed and gave place to others. 
The scene was imposing; the rich dresses of the cardinals, 
however, indicated any thing but the humility the ceremony 
is intended to remind them of The gorgeous decorations 
of the ceilings and sides and ends of the chapel, by the 
frescoes of Michael Angelo — the antiquated and venerable 
ceremony, that numbers its age by a thousand years — all 
ought to have kept certain Americans quiet, who, young 
and ignorant, thought proper to ridicule and sneer at the 
ceremonies; whereas, had they been brought up as these 



620 LAST VISIT TO THE VATICAN. 

people have been, they would probably believe in them as 
strongly. I know nothing more contemptible than an 
ignorant contempt of religious services that do not happen 
to chime with those of our own parish bell. 

I also re-entered the Vatican, and strolled through its 
stately and grand resurrection of old Greek and Roman 
genius; looked at the statues of the Eoman, and Greek, 
and Egyptian gods — where the art of the sculptor appears 
greater than his religion ; looked at the antique statues of 
Cicero, Demosthenes, Apollo; gazed at the mighty and awful 
agony in marble of the Laocoon ; saw the historical bas 
reliefs; the marble and granite pictured columns of old; the 
splendid porphyry baths and storied sarcophagi that had 
held emperors' dust for many a^es ; the sepulchral inscrip- 
tions; the animals, half-alive, though in stone — and all this 
for the last time. You have been there with friends gentle 
and kind ; you have seen antiquity face to face in these old 
works ; and you form an attachment to them and leave 
them with regret. The Laocoon and the Apollo Belvidere 
become things that you love. For, however much you may 
be disposed to criticize at first, your mind will always settle 
down and remember longest those works which long ages 
have concurred in pronouncing the best. This is by far 
the most splendid collection in the world. But kings, em- 
perors, and artists are all gone into dust long ago ; even the 
names and titles are unknown of those whose works remain 
to instruct, and edify, and warn, in these splendid and glo- 
rious halls. I also went into the Gallery of Paintings again, 
and stood before that great painting — the highest triumph 
of art — the '^ Transfiguration," by Raphael. The paintings 
here are all by the first masters ; but this one is superla- 
tive. Each face is the volume of a life. The Saviour's 
face is divinely lofty and humanly gentle. Sinless, holy, 
yet condescending, compassionate, attractive, majestic, sub- 
lime. The maniac seems to shudder like a demon coming 



THE CHURCH OF ST. AGNESE. 521 

into the presence of God ; the disciples are abashed and 
baffled, and can do nothing but point to the Mount where 
Jesus has gone. The father confides and wills not to des- 
pair yet ; the mother beseeches with maternal agony ; the 
sister — a beautiful figure, with sisterly grace, deep affection, 
and profound interest. It is heaven and hell — all the life, 
and action, and feeling of domestic human life. But he 
came down and said, '' faithless and perverse generation, 
how long shall I be with you and suffer you !" — as if the 
descent from the beatified transfiguration to earth was pain- 
ful. But compassion prevailed. '^ Bring him hither to 
me !" It was done, and the maniac was healed. 

To-day, February 18th, we visited the Church of St. 
Agnese. It is outside the walls of the city more than a 
mile. We went out by the Porta Pia. This church is said 
to have been built by Constantine. St. Agnese was a 
Christian maiden, converted in the first or second century. 
She was of humble rank but of extraordinary beauty. She 
was seen at her humble occupation of spinning by the em- 
peror's son, whose advances she repelled, saying she was 
the bride of the Church. Being thus discovered to be a 
Christian, she was martyred on the Piazza Novana, in the 
city, where another church, called by her name, stands, and 
where she struck blind the first person who saw her after 
her public exposure. This church, where her body was 
found, presents a very old appearance. The floor is many 
feet below the present surface of the ground. We descended 
a long marble staircase, on each side of the corridor of 
which are numerous old tomb-stones, with inscriptions in 
Latin and Greek, taken from the adjoining cemeteries and 
catacombs under ground. The church itself is kept very 
clean and neat, and has some old Byzantine mosaics of 
saints, with their fixed, staring, ghostly appearance — the 
style of the middle ages ; one of St. Agnese, is said to be 
eleven hundred years old. Her body lies under it. There 

2 t2 



522 NEW CHUECH OF ST. PAUL. 

are many lofty columns of rare marbles in this cliurch; 
along the nave and above there is another row supporting 
the roof. The apparently deserted and old Church of St. 
Constanza is near this, founded by Constantine, and where 
portions of his family were buried. It is a circular dome — 
has within it double rows of columns surrounding a circular 
space, and there are beautiful mosaics, very brilliant-looking, 
but of great age, around the interior. The pavement ap- 
pears to be the original one. From this place we went to 
the splendid Basilica of St. Paul on the opposite side of the 
city, a mile beyond the walls. This was also founded by 
Constantino; that is, the original church, a part of which 
oniy remains, the rest having been consumed by fire some 
thirty or forty years ago. It is now. however, rebuilt in a 
most splendid and imposing style. There are four rows of 
granite and marble columns along the nave, which is three 
hundred and ninety-six feet long. Some of the marble 
columns are the most rare and beautiful specimens in the 
world. The quantity of precious stones, and especially of 
lapis lazuli and malachite, is immense. These are presents 
from nearly all the Catholic princes of the world, and even 
from the Mohammedan Pacha of Egypt, who gave four 
columns of a rare Oriental alabaster. There are mosaic 
likenesses of all the Popes, from St. Peter down to the late 
one, an imposing array of two hundred and forty- nine 
heads, with the time each one held the Papacy. St. Peter 
is stated to have been Pope twenty-five years, seven months 
and two days. There is a magnificent assumption in this 
long line, extending through so many ages, up to Christ. 
Nothing that the world has ever seen can equal in mere 
splendor the Catholic Church, with its grand claims on this 
world and the next. In this church are some very fine 
modern paintings — one, the Stoning of St. Stephen, in which 
St. Paul is an impressive figure, gazing thoughtfully on 
Stephen. There are in the Tribune behind the Altar some 



THE MALAEIA. 523 

frescoes preserved from the old cliurch. TTie old churcli 
had no less than one hundred and thirty-eight columns, 
most of them ancient, presenting the finest assemblage in 
the world. In this church, previous to the burning, Chris- 
tian worship had been celebrated uninterruptedly for fifteen 
hundred years. There are eighty columns of granite in the 
modern church, with capitals of white marble. The columns 
are each a single stone. This church is near the place where 
St. Paul was beheaded. The interior certainly presents one 
of the most imposing sights imaginable. The four aisles of 
lofty granite columns almost exceed in effect that produced 
by the superior vastness of St. Peter's. The church is not 
yet quite finished, but it has been dedicated already by the 
present Pope. We walked around the cloisters of the Bene- 
dictine Monastery adjoining the church. The columns sup- 
porting the cloister roofs are truly singular, being of all 
possible designs — some having mosaics on them, some be- 
ing twisted, some fluted, and some spiral. This building is 
of the middle ages. The splendor of this church is, how- 
ever, all melancholy. The mysterious malaria is most fatal 
here in the summer, and is yearly becoming more so. The 
monks are obliged to leave the monastery early in the sum- 
mer. The few that remain to perform mass, or go out from 
the city to attend to it, become pale and short-lived. The 
deadly malaria will claim all this splendor. Of the cause 
of the onward stride of the miasm toward the city nothing 
is known certainly. Some see in it the fulfilling vengeance 
of Heaven against " Mystery Babylon ;" some attribute it to 
the uncultivated state of the Campagna, which in former 
times was under flourishing cultivation ; some, shortly and 
succinctly, to a curse — an easy way of disposing of the mat- 
ter. There is volcanic rock, or tufa, as it is called, under- 
lying the whole of the Campagna, and the Apennines 
around give indications of extinct volcanoes, that once may 
have been as active as Vesuvius. The tufa rock is eruptive 



524 ALAEIC AND ATTILA. 

matter thrown out ages ago. The silence and desolation of 
the Campagna are dreadful. A country that is cursed 
morally, as this is, is not unfrequently under a physical 
curse also. Some think the innumerable battles fought 
here leave dead, decomposing, deleterious particles, that 
are escaping from the soil. It is strange how little is his- 
torically known of the population of ancient Kome. There 
are writers who estimate it at three or four, or even eight 
millions. A judicious medium would be about two mil- 
lions. The walls are about twenty-six 'miles in circuit at 
present ; and this space, and doubtless a considerable region 
beyond the walls, was covered with houses — some of them 
very high — as we find a decree was passed by one of the 
emperors limiting the height oi privoie edifices to seventy 
feet. The Emperor Augustus asserted, it is said, that he 
found Rome built of brick and left it built of marble. In 
the decline of the empire, after the seat of government was 
removed to Constantinople, (which was about the year 330,) 
no sight could have been more splendid and saddening than 
this solemn mass of venerable magnificence sinking into 
decay. Alaric and his Gothic army ravaged Rome for six 
days, A.D. 410, eleven hundred and sixty-three years after 
its foundation on the Palatine Hill by Romulus; and for 
the preceding six hundred and nineteen years, or since the 
abortive attempt of Hannibal, no foreign enemy had dared 
to approach it. It is said Alaric asserted he felt a preter- 
natural impulse which impelled him to the siege and sack 
of Rome. He did not long survive it, however; and Attila, 
the barbarian monarch of the Huns, was admonished of 
this fact when he threatened the Eternal City. Besides 
this the two apostles (St. Peter and St. Paul) appeared to 
him on horseback, according to the legend, and warned 
him to desist. Attila died on his nuptial night, soon after. 
The Vandals, under Genseric, sacked the city in A. D. 455 
and pillaged it for fourteen days and nights. Odoacer^ a 



JOUENEY OVER THE CAMPAGNA. 525 

chief of one of the barbarian nations, was the first foreigner 
who sat down on the throne of the Caesars, and reigned 
over a degenerate people, whose ancestors asserted a jnst 
superiority to all the rest of mankind. He finally extin- 
guished the Western Empire of the Eomans, A. D. 476. 
The abdicated mistress of the world became, however, the 
capital of the Catholic Church. The Eoman Empire com- 
prehended, at the time of Trajan, at the beginning of the 
second century, the fairest portion of the earth. All Asia 
Minor, Syria, five provinces beyond the Tigris, all Egypt, 
all the known part of Africa, the entire shores of the 
Mediterranean Sea, the countries now known as Germany, 
France, Spain, Portugal, England with part of Scotland, 
Switzerland, the southern part of Austria, the whole of 
Greece, and the isles of the Mediterranean Sea, Italy, etc., 
are but the disjointed members of the mighty monarchy 
founded by Eomulus and his robbers, which overshadowed 
the world, gave to mankind the greatest men, was the 
nucleus of the Christian religion, and by its fall seemed to 
symbol the destruction of the whole frame of nature. 

To-day, February 19th, has been, atmospherically, a 
pleasant day, and it has been spent on classic soil. There 
is one railway in the Papal States, from Rome to Frascati, 
about twelve miles. It was constructed by a French com- 
pany. Passing by the Basilica of St. John Lateran, we 
came to the small railway station, and were soon riding in 
a vehicle, and propelled by a power utterly unknown to the 
Romans, over the Campagna toward the mountains. The 
Campagna is a desert, but it produces a crop of grand ruins. 
These wretched-looking ruins can no longer grow, except 
when the pitying ivy embraces them ; they have nothing 
more to do with time or man, nothing but decay on the 
cheerless bosom of the Campagna. There are unknown 
ruins here — that have survived all history — to which there 
are no names, no records, nothing but an eloquent, mourn- 



526 FKASCATI. 

ful pile. Aqueducts, built of very large stones on lofty 
arches, like the walls of a giant city, stretch in miles of 
ruins. Villas of emperors here only exist in the form of 
ivy-grown, gray walls, that can no longer decay, though 
they once had an excess of life. Nothing can be more 
melancholy than these shreds of so great a past. The ruins 
of a temple erected on the place where Coriolanus met his 
wife and mother, and to their request yielded, but said, 
"Thou hast saved Rome, but ruined thy son!" may be 
observed. Approaching Frascati, we came to a more hilly 
region, fruitful with olive orchards. Leaving the railway, 
we ascended a long hill, or mountain, to the town of Frascati, 
founded on the site of an ancient city, which was entirely 
destroyed in the wars of the middle ages. It is a small 
place on the hill-side, with some remains of Roman walls, 
and some tombs. As in Rome, the energy of the people is 
expended in constructing churches. Here we hired mules, 
which are kept for travelers, and proceeded up the moun- 
tain, the ascent being very steep, passing on our way 
numerous and very splendid villas built on the mountain 
side and belonging to the Roman nobility, where they resort 
in summer, daring the malaria season in Rome. They are 
generally built so as to command most lovely views of the 
Campagna below, are adorned with elegant terraces and 
grounds, in which are fountains, shrubbery, etc. In one 
of them Cardinal Boromio composed his historical annals. 
Another was the residence of Lucien Bonaparte. In 1818, 
when this prince's daughter was just on the point of being 
married to a Roman prince, a descent was made by 
brigands, to carry off' the lady, so as to require a vast ran- 
som for her restoration ; this was fortunately prevented. 
Other members of the family were, however, carried off to 
some of the hills, for whom the prince was obliged to pay 
six thousand dollars ransom. The road by which we 
ascended, though steep, is almost entirely enclosed by a 



TUSCULUM. 527 

shady avenue of ancient live oaks. It passes in some 
places over the ancient Koman road of two thousand years 
ago. There are several large churches and convents ob- 
served on ascending the hill, the bells of which ringing out 
on the fresh sunny air, seem well suited to the desolate 
repose of the scene. Approaching the summit of the hill, 
we came upon the gloomy ruins and half-buried buildings 
marking the site of the ancient city of Tusculum, which, 
in ancient times, was a splendid city, to which Cicero and 
others used to retire after their labors in the Senate or 
Forum, and look down on the great city, the only one that 
was ever mistress of the world. We came first to an exca- 
vated amphitheatre of great size, built in an oval form, the 
lower parts of the walls alone remaining. On the right of 
this are extensive ruins, supposed to occupy the site of 
Cicero's villa. Further on, by the ancient Eoman Way, on 
the thick blocks of which are deep ruts made by carriages 
two thousand years ago, we came to a theatre built of 
stones, with many of the seats yet entire. There are vari- 
ous other nameless ruins around, which were excavated by 
Lucien Bonaparte. A hill ascends above the theatre, from 
which is disclosed one of the finest views in any country, 
embracing Home, with the giant of churches, St. Peter's, 
rising above the sea of domes ; beyond is the Mediterranean 
Sea, shining in the sun; the Campagna, with its ruins, is 
below, and around are mountains and vales — Kocca di Papa, 
Monte Cava, a classic land and a classic sea, all in view. 
Immediately about, on the hill, are half-buried fragments of 
marble statues, columns peering out of the weight of the 
sod of centuries. The ground is covered partly with 
clusters of beautiful Howers growing in their life of beauty 
over the ruins. Nothing is so desolate as desolation itself 
gone into decay. This hill is twenty-two hundred feet 
above the sea level. In this place is the scene of several 
of Cicero's works. Returning, we reached the city late in 



628 PINCIAN HILL. 

the evening. But long shall linger the memory of the 
sunny and beautiful slopes of the hills around Tusculum 
and the villas of Frascati. 

To-day, Saturday, February 20th, I have been visiting 
several places in Eome. Ascending the one hundred and 
thirty-four steps from the Piazza di Spagna to the top of the 
Pincian Hill, crowned with a stately, towered church and 
convent, one is soon in the ground occupied by ancient 
Eome. You are, as usual, assailed by beggars — little girls 
who affect the cheerfu], insinuating manner, take your hand, 
beseech you to give them a " mezzo baiocchi " — then there 
is the whining beggar, the one who mutely extends his 
withered hand — there is the one who holds up a child (bor- 
rowed for the purpose, perhaps), and begs for the "bam- 
bino." There is an old beggar, who, for many years, has 
claimed as his kingdom a right to beg on these steps, and, 
it is said, pays a certain sum to the government for that 
permission. Other beggars respect his rights, and do not 
encroach on his domains. Indeed the beggars appear to 
parcel out the city, and each one claims certain streets as his 
peculium. This old beggar is always cheerful : he is called 
the " Torso," as he is defective in his feet, and moves on his 
hands. If you have given him once, he rarely begs from 
you again, but takes off his hat, with '' Bon giorno, signor," 
in his best style. He rides to his station each morning on 
a donkey, to beg. These beggars may be descendants of 
Julius Caesar, while Cardinal Prince Borghese may be de- 
scended from his slaves. In the course of ages one's an- 
cestors may be princes, beggars, saints, or demons. One 
has borrowed a mother, on whose account he begs. If you 
look like a foreigner, you are addressed as " Monsieur," but 
generally as ''Signor," rarely in English, that language not 
being so well adapted to begging. It is impossible to 
express the pathos they can throw into the word " Signor, 
poveri," '' Sir, we are poor." Descending the Pincian Hill, 



CHURCH OF ST. PRASSEDE. 529 

jOTi next ascend the Quirinal, then tlie Viminal. The lat- 
ter hill has almost disappeared, on acconnt of the elevation 
of the circumjacent valley. Near this is the church of St. 
Pudenziana, on the site of the oldest church in Rome, said 
to have been first founded in the year A. D. 45. As in 
other very old churches, the floor is below the present sur- 
face. It is a small church, with the usual very old and 
dingy-looking pictures, and on the Tribune, or space back of 
the Altar, esteemed the most sacred place, are those singular- 
looking old mosaics, in gold grounds, indicative of the 
middle, or Byzantine ages. The church occupies the site of 
the house of Pudens, a Senator, with whom St. Paul lodged. 
There are fourteen columns of gray marble. The bell 
tower is of the Lombard style of architecture. The great 
Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, or Saint Mary the 
Greater, is on the summit of the Esquiline Hill, and is next 
in view. It is also on a site where has been a church for 
sixteen hundred years. Here you see long rows of massive 
columns, numerous frescoes and mosaics eight hundred 
years old ; relics also — the identical cradle in which Jesus 
Christ lay I You seem to be looking adown the corridors 
of time, as you gaze on the long line of marble columns, 
supporting a historical entablature of mosaics, and its 
mosaic floor, compartments of figures, trodden on by the 
feet of generations long since dust. Near this is the church 
of St. Prassede, on the site of an Oratory erected here A. D. 
160, to which the early Christians retired when persecuted. 
When I entered, there were four or five hundred soldiers 
within, attending service. It appears it is required of them 
to attend service regularly. There are tombs here of the 
date of 1286. St. Prassede, after whom the church was named, 
was a daughter of PudenS; who was the first person converted 
in Rome bv St. Paul. There are mosaics here one thousand 
years old, of eastern origin. There are sixteen columns of 
34 2 U 



530 THE MURO TUETO. 

granite, and some black porphyry. Padens is mentioned 
by Paul in his Epistle to Timothy. 

I visited also, to-day, the Villa Borghese, the entrance to 
which is just outside the Porta del Popolo. The grounds 
of the villa are the most extensive and beautiful I have yet 
seen in Italy. There is perpetual summer in the long ave- 
nues of live oaks, there are fountains springing at various 
places, there are chapels, summer houses, antique statues, 
remains of Eoman arches, half-obliterated Eoman and Greek 
inscriptions dispersed over the grounds and gently ascend- 
ing hills, all in the immediate site of the walls of Rome. In 
the Casino there is a rich collection of ancient and modern 
sculpture. The halls — there are some sixteen of them — are 
most stately ; the ceilings are in fresco, by great masters ; 
there are some modern statues by Bernini, of great excel- 
lence — one, a group of Apollo and Daphne, a fine work — 
the goddess becomes a tree as he seizes her ; yery many 
remains of antique sculpture — some of them not very 
chaste looking. There is a statue, by Canova, of the beau- 
tiful Pauline Bonaparte, sister of the first Napoleon, who 
was married to Prince Borghese. Some of the floors have 
Roman mosaics from various rnins, representing the com- 
bats of the gladiators. This villa is open only on Saturday, 
at which times, as was the case to-day, there are many 
visitors. The Borghese family have given several Popes to 
the Papal throne, and retain much of their old power and 
possessions. They own fifty thousand acres of the Cam- 
pagna. There are pompous, liveried domestics in each 
room. The one in the first one receives your donation, and 
ceremoniously bows till you are out. You write your name 
and nation in the visitors' book. Interesting as are the 
treasures in these grand halls, they are not comfortable. 
There are no fire-places in any genuine Italian house. The. 
domestics sit over iron braziers of red-hot charcoal. Return- 
ing, I looked at the Muro Turto, or leaning wall. It is a 



EXCUESION TO TIVOLI. 531 

portion of the ancient wall of Rome, remaining uncliaDged 
and unrepaired since the times of the first C^sar — it being 
alleged that it is under the special protection of St. Peter 
and St. Paul, who appeared to Alaric with drawn swords in 
their hands, as he was about to attack the city there, and 
obliged him to retire. Belisarius, one of the greatest gen- 
erals of the fifth century, was about to repair it, but was 
dissuaded by the people. 

To-day, Monday, February 22d, we start early on an ex- 
cursion to Tivoli. The morning is pleasant, though some- 
what cool. We go out by the low-browed gate of San 
Lorenzo, and enter upon the Campagna. The scene con- 
tinues desert and dreary for some distance, without cultiva- 
tion, though the land does not appear of inferior quality, 
and is covered with sod. Antique ruins of the middle ages 
rise around, presenting embattlemented walls and towers. 
Approaching the mountains, some fifteen miles from Rome, 
their snow-clad summits are seen touching the beautiful 
clouds of Italy. We pass several streams, branches of the 
Tiber, some of which separate the"Agro Romano," the 
Italian name of the Campagna, or country immediately 
around Rome, from the Sabine territories. On the left are 
three pointed hills, the tops of which are embraced by old 
villages and castles. We soon came to a sulphurous region, 
the scent of which fills all the air. Large and deep and 
dead sea-looking lakes are seen, out of which rises sulphur- 
ous gas, and a stream of milk-white water comes from them 
and foams its furious torrent through an artificial canal, the 
white smoke hovering over its waters. The whole region 
looks dead and desolate, and around there is no vegetation ; 
tbe smell is horrid, and here may be the crater of the 
volcano, hereafter, which some say is to destroy Rome. 
Near this is a lake, very deep, and certainly the most infer- 
nal, dark, and dreary -looking which I have ever seen. It 
produces, by constant petrification, the stone called travertin, 



532 VILLA ADRIANO. 

which grows around its banks in great quantities; this 
is its dreary vegetation, and this is constantly narrowing 
the margin of the lake, and will convert it eventually into 
a dreary, rocky chasm. It is called "Lago di Tartari," or 
"Lake of Hell." Further on, we came to another mighty 
Eoman tomb, resembling that of Cecilia Metella, though 
not as good masonry. It has been a tomb, a fortress, and 
is now a prison. It is a large, circular tower, to defend 
ashes long since lost to earth. Many of the large blocks of 
stone of which it was composed have been taken away, 
probably to construct other buildings, and its upper parts 
are now battlemented with brick. Here, on all sides, the 
views are most lovely. To the left are several conical 
peaks of mountains, crowned with very old, changeless 
Italian villages, where life and history go on in an unvaried 
round for a thousand years. Diverging to the right, we 
now entered that solemn ruin, Hadrian's Villa, one of the 
most extensive in the world. Here that emperor, who had 
traveled over the greater part of his dominions, then almost 
all the known world, constructed buildings, baths, temples, 
theatres, in imitation of the various styles and places which 
had pleased him in his travels. The whole embraced a 
circuit of miles; but of these there exist, in general, but 
shapeless walls, indicating the partial outline. What a 
desolation now! Large and dark cypress trees grow all 
around and over the beautiful ruins, and the aged arches 
are draped by the ivy, and the olive arbors around wanton 
luxuriantly in the fertile soil of fallen fanes. The ruins are 
much more extensive than those of the Palace of the 
Caesars. The finest statues of antiquity stood in the niches 
which one yet sees in the walls ; and many of those remains 
now in the Vatican and Capitol galleries, and many in vari- 
ous parts of Europe, came from these ruins, though during 
the middle ages many of the fine statues were burnt to con- 
vert the marble into lime. There are ruing of three 



ASCENT OF THE MOUNTAINS. 533. 

theatres, a lofty reticulated wall, six hundred feet in length, 
temples supposed to have been lined with slabs of porphyry, 
immense swimming baths, ruins called the library, temples 
of Diana and Venus, the Imperial Palace, ruins of the 
Academy, remains of the Tartarus, or Hell ; also of the 
Elysian Fields ; ruins of the hundred chambers — in short, 
this villa, in the days of its founder, must have been a 
miniature world. AVe spent some time passing through 
long, low, nameless corridors, then along frescoed halls the 
bright, eternal sky, that knows of no such ruined scenes as 
these, overhead. The ruins belong to the Duke of Braschi 
in Rome, and require a special permit to see them. They 
are under the superintendence of a custode^ who acts as 
guide. Much of the space occupied by the ruins is an olive 
plantation, and we saw groups of the dark Italian girls sit- 
ting under the trees, collecting the fruit which others were 
shaking from them. Observing our curiosity in looking 
at them, they thought it a fine opening to beg, which at 
once dispersed our romance to the winds. In the midst of 
this magnificence of all that the Roman Empire could 
furnish, Hadrian, who was one of the wisest and best of the 
emperors, was seized with a mortal and incurable disease, 
of which he died at Baise, near Naples. Hadrian succeeded 
Trajan, and reigned nineteen years, dying A. D. 138. Re- 
suming our carriages, we began the ascent of the mountains, 
the Villa of Hadrian lying at their base. The ascent was 
by an excellent road, through a splendid olive plantation, 
adorning the mountain slope, belonging to the Duke of 
Braschi. The ugly but useful evergreen olive flourishes 
here finely in great age, the soil being apparently better 
than that of the Campagna, where there is but little cultiva- 
tion. The views obtained, upon ascending the mountains, of 
that sea of ruins, the Campagna, are very fine. St. Peter's 
asserts its vast size, by being most distinctly seen, thouo-h 
fifteen miles off in an air line. There are many Roman 

2 u 2 



634 TivoLi. 

villas on the ascent. At length we came to Tivoli, with its 
old walls and towers, dirty streets, and legions of beggars, 
no less than fourteen of whom beset us at one time, profer- 
ing services. The city is on a mountain slope, with a tre- 
mendous chasm on one side. It is utterly impregnable on 
that side, and is defended on the other sides by walls. It is 
five hundred years older than Eome, consequently over 
three thousand years in age, being originally a Greek 
colony. Horace and Yirgil, and many others, have cele- 
brated the beauty of Tivoli, then called Tibur. Queen 
Zenobia died near it. The chief attraction here now is the 
Cascade of the Anio, which, after that of Terni, is the finest 
in Europe. We crossed a bridge, on the right of which is 
a very ancient Roman graveyard, which was unknown for 
many ages, and only discovered when excavations were 
made to divert the course of the stream. On the right of 
the bridge is the splendid cataract, three hundred and 
twenty feet high, with its rainbows blown about by the 
winds, its gauze-like vapor vailing it in half-seen beauty, 
like drapery, and its thunder-like roar reverberates through 
the ancient mountains like an aroused spirit. Just above 
it, on a ledge of jutting rocks, stand the columnar ruins of a 
Roman temple, repaired into a Catholic church. Walking 
around a beautiful road, formed in the bosom of the moun- 
tain, but opening on the left, toward the Campagna — Rome, 
the sea, Tivoli, the cataract — we had a scene of most won- 
drous interest and loveliness. Further on we had full 
views of the hill, ancient and wild, on which Tivoli is situ- 
ated, from which issue the main cataract, and a whole 
phalanx of smaller ones, leaping into the vale below with 
the glee of wild mountain children. Nothing could be 
more beautiful ! The little winds fan the brilliant vegeta- 
tion ; and the cherub children, the rainbows, come around 
with their many -colored garments ; the old ruins themselves 
are happy, and the physiognomy of the scene becomes one 



SAN LORENZO. 535 

of the eternities of the heart. Many ruins of villas, those 
of Catallus, Sallust, Maecenas, are here ; the scene is a love- 
liness in tears — a dirge of Beethoven embodied — it is Italy, 
the fallen, discrowned qneen of all countries a thousand 
years after her grandeur — when her very ruin had become 
beautiful. Had mankind produced nothing more than the 
Eoman Empire, they would have been a sufficiently grand 
creation for a God. In the dim haze afar off loomed up 
Michael Angelo's dome over St. Peter's, a thing of won- 
drous beauty. As the hotels of Tivoli are not renowned 
for much except dirt, we brought along with us somewhat; 
that while the mind feasted on the beautiful in nature, the 
physical man might not be forgotten ; so, seated under the 
shade of an olive, in the midst of this scene, we dined off 
bread, butter, dried figs, ham, and sublimity. Eeturning to 
Rome in the evening, and after passing that grave-yard of 
grandeur, Hadrian's Yilla, we had one of the glorious Cam- 
pagna sunsets of this climate — all the adornments of piled- 
up clouds, streamed and tinged with gilded glory, looking 
like an isle of sky, another land of evanescent loveliness. 
These sunsets continue for weeks of the same type — the 
same clouds come out on the sky, assume the same forms, 
and gather themselves up in glory. On our route we stop- 
ped at the margin of one of the drear lakes, and looked at 
the petrifying waters, and also at the Basilica of San 
Lorenzo outside the walls, founded, it is said, by Constan- 
tine, who, from the number of churches attributed to him, 
probably only made some change in Pagan temples, so as 
to adapt them to Christian worship. This presents an im- 
posing appearance in its long array of columns, some fluted, 
others with spiral flutings ; some of granite, others of vari- 
ous kinds of marbles; some with Corinthian, others with 
Composite capitals ; some of the columns half buried, some 
of black Egyptian granite. St. Lawrence and St. Stephen 
are buried here. Then there are the low entrances from it 



536 KOME. 

to the Catacombs, which are explored with great risk and 
danger. There are panels of red and green porphyry here, 
and two marble pulpits, one on each side of the nave, an 
indisputable proof of its great antiquity. The floor is of 
beautiful mosaic. The seven splendid Basilicas of Rome 
are worth any man's time to come across from America to 
see. Their treasures of art and architecture, their antiqui- 
ties, their customs, their relics, their wealth in marbles and 
precious stones, all form instructive subjects of thought to 
the man who looks at the theatre of this world in its pres- 
ent and its past. Cumulatively, they afford a splendid 
argument for Christianity, and of the actual existence of the 
persons of its founders. It is true that one need not believe 
in the relics, but the man has had an erasive sponge applied 
to his reasoning powers who cannot see that superstition is 
an argument for the existence of something that is true ; and 
though, perhaps, as many splendid temples have been 
erected to Jupiter, Yenus, Apollo, Mercury, and other non- 
existent personages, as to the Apostles, yet, if a tradition 
assert a thing in an unvarying manner for fifteen hundred 
years — if churches have been built on the spot in express 
attestation of it — it furnishes the strongest possible evidence 
of the facts claimed. But it may be said that on the same 
premises a temple to Bacchus proves that Bacchus existed, 
and the whole Grecian mythology, from which the Roman 
is borrowed, could thus be proved also. The two cases are 
not alike. There is no uniform tradition as to fact, place, and 
time ; no corroborating history, no concurrent testimony ; 
the heathen gods arose from the imaginations of the poets as 
described in the writings of Homer and others, whereas 
the men of Christianity preceded the books on them. 
How often, however, our belief only compliments our 
conduct. 

But to-day has been oar last day in Rome. It has been 
a leave-taking of places and objects rendered almost dear 



LAST DAY IN EOME. 

by association and merit. I have revisited the glorious 
works of art in the Borghese and Doria Palaces — the 
"Entombment," by Raphael, and the works of Domenichino 
and Titian in the former, and the glorious landscapes of 
Claude Lorraine in the grand halls of the latter ; also, the 
statues of the Capitol, especially the Venus of the Capitol — 
which is in a reserved hall, not usually opened — one of the 
finest statues in the world ; the grand study of the Dying 
Gladiator also, and the expressive and mournful statue of 
Aggrippina in a sitting posture lamenting the death of 
Drusus. I was also in .the Vatican, to which it is hard to 
say farewell. I was in its immense library — the largest in 
the world, not in reference to the number of books, but in 
regard to the quantity of space; saw the splendid vases and 
specimens of precious stones, presented from various emper- 
ors to the Popes ; the baptismal font, a splendid affair of 
gold and precious stones, from which the French Prince 
Imperial was sprinkled — a present from Napoleon III. to 
the Pope — who christened the prince by proxy ; also speci- 
mens of old papyrus, with historical annals on them ; very 
old church paintings also, not very good, but very interest- 
ing on account of age and historical relations; paintings 
and ladies differing essentially — the one becoming more in- 
teresting when the mellow tints of age gather upon them — 
of the other I shall not speak. We saw also many instru- 
ments of torture and of martyrdom, and mosaics found in 
catacombs ; a fresco of Charlemagne — an expressive one 
of that great hero, one thousand years old ; a Bridegroom 
Scene, one of the most celebrated of original Roman paint- 
ings — a chaste and beautiful piece ; there is the original 
plan of the Church of St. Peter's, as designed by Michael 
Angelo, in the form of a Greek cross, which would have 
made a much grander and more imposing construction than 
the present one, if the great design had been carried through 
by that great mind. There are numerous lachrymaria, or 



538 LAST DAY IN KOME, 

small vial-looking glasses, to hold the tears of tlie martyrs, 
as they fell, while they suffered, which were esteemed most 
sacred, as well as very many other things collected by the 
Popes to render this place, what it is in truth, the most 
interesting place in the world. It has been well remarked, 
that no palace in the world approaches the Vatican in point 
of interest. The Laocoon, that sublime agony ; the Apollo 
Belvidere, the perfection of godlike beauty, (it is stated as 
a fact that a French lady became so enamored of this cold 
marble ideal of beauty, that she became deranged), and then 
a "last, lingering look" at Eaphael's "Transfiguration," 
which goes with one as a brother soul ; then a last stroll 
through St. Peter's — -a last glance at its grandeur ; then a 
walk on the Pincian Hill, where the wealth of England and 
the nobility of Eorae pass and repass to show their wealth 
and beauty. The number of English at present is great in 
Rome ; and their coroneted carriages have in them persons 
whose satiety of earth and appearance of nnhappiness, 
which are attendants on high birth and breeding, are indi- 
cated by their countenances. The music discourses and the 
sun sets on Eome ; but where should one's last hour in Rome 
be spent but in Rome's ruins ! These gay promenaders 
are too light, and frivolous, and evanescent for a place so 
awful-hearted as Rome. The night was slightly moonlit 
and hazy, and there were struggling rays of planets in the 
sky, and a half-moon looked out from its home of ages as if 
weary of this old world. I walked down the Corso, threaded 
the dirty, old, narrow, cut-throat-looking streets about the 
Capitol Hill, then passed among the skeletons of temples, 
and stood in the Coliseum, so old-looking that it has become 
devotional, so gray and grand that you respect it, and so 
sad that you fear it. The great rim of mighty gray wall is 
around you, with its two hundred arches; but the hundi^ed 
thousand spectators who once sat on those once marble-lined 
tiers of seats daily, and the Roman Empire itself, have 



FAREWELL TO THE COLISEUM. 539 

gone! There is the hollow, guttural, murmuring of the 
Tiber; there is the watch-dog near, baying for company ; 
there are the rows of cypresses skirting the Coelian Ilill, 
growing among ruins; there are the wretched rents in the 
ruin — the Koman princes having made this a stone quarry 
for two hundred years to build palaces out of; there is the 
ghostly, spectral moonlight, flickering and glimmering — 
and the rest is silence! But the great, round, many-arched 
thing, with its broad and solemn under-aisles, seems to have 
a kind of gray gladness and majestic content in its great 
age. Yet it seems to be a human, spirited thing, appealing 
to you for sympathy. It is the most suggestive ruin in the 
world. Your past may come back to you there; but what 
is your past to its past ! I turned away. I shall never 
stand there again. Returning by the old Roman way, 
when approaching the Arch of Titus, I heard on the left, 
proceeding from among the vast ruins of the noble Palace 
of the Caesars, on the Palatine Hill, the most singular, 
prolonged, and unearthly scream I have ever heard any 
where. It was a sound that seemed to search you and to 
see you. I stood and listened. It came at regular inter- 
vals. There are no houses, nothing but substructions of 
palaces. If there be a place on earth where ghosts might 
haunt, this is assuredly the scene — where Nero, and Calig- 
ula, and Domitian, each mother, brother, and wife mur- 
derer — each exhausted all the ingenuity of sin — and where 
ruin now only reigns. I stood and looked at the scene- 
remains of temples many centuries old, clad in the gray of 
age, while the dim moonlight, with its shreds of shadows, 
fell on them. The Arch of Cbnstantine, that of Titus, of 
Septimus Severus, each with sculptured figures; the three 
lofty and beautiful columns of fluted marble, called the 
ruins of the Temple of Julius Caesar; the solitary column 
of Phocas; the excavated paved way of the Roman Forum; 
the eight columns of the Temple of Peace — all were in 



540 LEAVING ROME. 

view in the silent beauty of ages. The voice screamed 
from one place, at regular intervals. I walked slowly on, 
nearly one hundred yards, toward the Capitol Hill, wlien 
suddenly the voice changed its position to another and 
entirely different part of the ruins, as if keeping parallel 
with my position. It was pitched on a key unlike 
any thing I have ever heard, and more like a continued 
shriek of the damned falling into hell, than any thing I can 
imagine. From my knowledge of the locality, it was im- 
practicable for any ordinary person to descend the huge, 
shapeless ruins on the northern side of the Palatine Hill, 
and approach the ruins known in Eome as the Basilica 
Julia, where I heard it the last time, in the very brief 
period intervening. The Romans living in the dirty, mean, 
modern houses, contiguous to this locality, had all retired, 
and whether the noise was made by jackal, wild cat, owl, or 
the ghost of Caligula, I neither know nor care, but it was 
hideous enough to be any of them. Regaining the Piazza 
Campidoglia, or the " Mournful Place," the modern name 
of the Capitol Hill, I was soon in the Corso. Adieu, then, 
to Rome, dear old Rome, with its grand churches, its solemn 
and stately and venerable superstitions, its palaces, the repos- 
itories of dead art and genius, and its ruins, to all — Adieu ! 
But this morning, Wednesday, February 24th, we left 
Rome. We are a party of seven, all friends made in travel- 
ing. We are traveling by vettura, which affords greater 
facilities for seeing the country than the rapid post travel- 
ing. The vetturini are a great institution in all Italian 
towns. We have a large carriage accommodating five con- 
veniently in the inside, two on the coupe in front, which is 
covered and protected from the weather ; the driver occu- 
pies a lower seat in front. We enter into regular written 
contract with the proprietor of the vehicle ; he is to furnish 
us with a good carriage, with four good horses, driver, pay 
all expenses on the route, hotel bills, stop at the best hotels. 



LEAVING ROME, 541 

and be on the route four days to Naples, for whicli we pay 
twenty-two Napoleons, about eighty-six dollars, for the whole 
party. Yesterday we procured visas for our passports — 
getting three visas — paying one dollar for the visa of our 
own consul, one for the police visa of Rome, and one for 
the Neapolitan visa. The buono mano is also a great insti- 
tution in Italy. Every one with whom you have had any 
dealings expects a buono mano, after you have satisfied his 
just demands. Having dispensed all these indispensables, 
we took leave of our host and hostess, not omitting 
Raccali, our fire-lighter, all of whom seemed to have formed 
a real attachment to us during our stay of nearly two 
months, and shed tears, with many wishes of "bon viaggio," 
or a safe journey. We depart down the Corso, from the 
Yia Condotti, pass the column with all the wars of 
Antoninus sculptured on its twenty-eight blocks of white 
marble — then we pass that of Trajan, with the sunken ruins 
of his Forum— then pass near the Coliseum, of which we 
take a final view — then the great Basilica, St. John Lateran 
— then we arrive at the gate San Giovanni, where our pass- 
ports are required ; we are then out of Rome and on the 
Campagna. Rome was no more to us, except as a thing of 
memory. Our course was toward Albano, fourteen miles 
from Rome, by the new Via Appia, the old Via Appia on 
our right, and the Via Latina on our left, both old Roman 
ways, marked in their course over the Campagna by a long 
line of ruined sepulchres. The great Roman works of 
aqueducts stride over the plain for miles, sprinkling the 
remarkable Campagna with picturesque ruins, crumbling 
arches, and falling masonry. The Ages are there in the 
vastness of their decay. There were strange masses of brick 
and undestroyed fragments of tombs, almost colossal and 
all ivy-grown. About eleven miles from Rome our route 
joined the Via Appia. We crossed the dry bed of a river, 
a singular feature in Italy, where you sometimes see the 

2v 



642 LAKE ALBANO. 

rivers themselves gone into decay. Approaching Albano 
there was a long ascent, lined on each side with tomb ruins. 
There was the tomb of Pompey the Great, in particular, an. 
immense, round, brick tower, four stories high, and which 
appears to have been originally covered with fine blocks of 
white' marble. There was a chamber in it twelve feet long, 
and eight wide, in which were deposited the ashes of 
Pompey, brought from Egypt by his wife Cornelia, after 
his murder there. Eemaining at Albano some hours, we 
took our dejeuner a la fourchetie. From this, by a pleasant 
walk of a mile or two along a most noble avenue of lofty 
and old live oaks, some of which are singularly supported 
in their helpless age by brick columns, we visited Castel 
Goiidolfo, a village containing a summer residence of the 
Popes, and here, cradled in an extinct volcanic crater, we 
saw one of the most beautiful little lakes in the world — the 
Lake of Albano. It is oval in shape, and about six miles 
around ; and -when we saw it, its blue waves were curled by 
a mountain wind, and it was spanned by a beautiful rain- 
bow, or rather mistbow, as if an angel were painting the 
air. The Eomans dug an emissary, or subterranean canal, 
about a mile in length, passing under the town and through 
the mountain, the object of which was to reduce the amount 
of water in the lake, there being danger it might overflow 
the Campagna. This was done about twenty-three hundred 
years ago. This still exists, and much w^ater passes off by 
it. The appearance of the lake is wonderfully curious in 
its deep, cup-like crater, and its towns and monasteries 
around it. Here, probably, thousands of years ago, was 
one of those volcanoes whose eruptions formed the volcanic 
rocks underlying the Campagna. The views around were 
wondrously beautiful, embracing mountains, ravines, the 
almost level, dark, and fated-looking Campagna, on which 
no snow ever falls, extending to the shining Mediterranean 
— there is Eome also, our last view of it, with St. Peter's — 



ROUTE TO NAPLES 543 

a vision of the past, an eternity of history. Along the base 
of the mountains, near, are numerous conical elevations, 
crowned with turreted ruins and battlemented walls, re- 
mains of villas, and ivy-grown, ponderous tombs. The 
whole Campagna is seen as far as Soract^. Descending 
again to Albano, by the gallery of ilexes, having on our 
left a large grove of Eoman pines, three or four hundred 
years old, we rambled through the old town, once a favorite 
resort of the old Romans. It contains several fine, modern 
villas, and is said to be healthy, but is rather too near the 
malarious regions of the Campagna. Though very dirty, 
these old towns have an air of solidity and permanency not 
possessed by American towns. They are built of large, 
cut stone, and the villas, convents, and churches have all an 
air of splendor. Just outside the walls is a large and high 
cross with the entire apparatus of the Crucifixion — the spear, 
the sponge, the ladder, the hammer, nails, apron, etc. The 
crosses generally content themselves with spear and sponge, 
but this one omits no particular. The scenic ground of 
half of Virgil's JEneid is visible from the gates of Albano. 
Leaving Albano, where we drank some of the fine wines 
of that country, growing on the slopes below, which has in 
all ages been celebrated, we passed the singular-lookino-^ 
old tomb, assigned, on doubtful grounds, to Aruns— for 
there have been volumes written on each ruin — then we 
passed a stupendous, modern construction, a viaduct, con- 
sisting of three superposed ranges of arches— six on the 
lower tier, twelve on the central, and eighteen on the upper 
— the height of each being sixty, and the width forty-nine 
feet between the piers. This spans a chasm of ten hundred 
and twenty feet in breadth in the road, and at a height of one 
hundred and ninety-two feet. It is a work finished during the 
reign of the present Pope, and shows that the spirit of public 
improvement is not dead in Italy, as this work almost rivals 
the ruins of the ancient constructions which stand around 



544 ROUTE TO NAPLES. 

it. We also passed Lariccia and Genzano ; near the lat- 
ter place is a most magnificent triple avenue of elms, and 
tlie most beantiful lake of Nemi, occupy ing, like that of 
Albano, the crater of an extinct volcano. The views 
around here are lovely, exhibiting hill and mountain slopes 
vine-clad, and the sea-like Campagna below — all seemed 
classical, antique, and beautiful, as we wound among the 
hills on the smooth, hard road. We reached Yelletri at five 
o'clock in the evening, where we designed remaining for 
the night. It is on the brow of a hill, overlooking the 
Campagna and the sea. It has about twelve hundred in- 
habitants ; the one street is long and dirty. Nearly all 
the men wear black, piratical-looking cloaks. There are 
castles, convents, and churches. I entered one of the latter 
in the dim dusk of the evening, and heard the dull, droning 
music, saw the faded paintings, the glimmering candles, the 
slabs of tombstones. The women are pretty here. This, 
as well as many other towns in this region, held long wars 
with the Romans — the latter finally conquering, till all 
Italy was subdued. This was the country of the Yolsces, 
and Coriolanus surrounded this town with walls and a fosse. 
The regions overlooked by these hills is all classical ; the 
^neid had its action here in the ages anterior to Eome. 
The hills around are generally fertile, being covered with 
olive and vine plantations, interspersed with ruins. Sum- 
mer seemed to dwell forever in the long galleries of live oaks 
which we passed, in ascending to the Lake of Albano, and 
birds in their branches were singing songs, to us unknown, 
of summer. 

We left Yelletri at eight o'clock this morning, February 
25th, our vetturino conductor having provided us with a 
good and rather comfortable inn (La Posta). We traveled 
aboat twenty-five miles yesterday. Our route now began 
to descend toward the Pontine Marshes. On our left were 
the bleak and bare Yolscian Mountains, with occasionally 



ROUTE TO NAPLES. 545 

little, old, and doubtless dirty stone villages, perched, on 
peaks, with castles of the middle ages, towers and walls, 
and ruins of temples of more *ancient times, toppling into 
decay, serving as homes for the brigands who infest this 
region. We passed through an oak forest, which has been ['. 
cleared away on each side of the road for some distance, to 
deprive the robbers of covert. We soon reached Cisterna — 
anciently " Tres Tabernse/' or the Three Taverns— one of 
the places where the brethren from Rome met St. Paul, and 
where he ''thanked God and took couras^e." It is now a 
very small town, with a large fortress or castle, belonging 
to a princely family of the middle ages ; there is also a 
Cathedral. One of the towns on the left of this, on the 
skirts of the mountains, is Cora, an ancient Greek colony, 
reckoned by some authors to be one of the oldest in Europe. 
The town had three circuits of walls. The Pontine Marshes, 
upon which we now entered, are level, but utterly desert 
and uncultivated, except being used in some places as pas- 
tures for sheep and buffalo — large numbers of the latter 
being seen. They are live or six miles broad, extending 
from the mountains to the sea, and about thirty-six miles 
in length. The old Roman, or Appian Way, on which we 
now were, runs straight through the marshes — in some 
places repaired with walls on each side, in other places 
there are long avenues of elms. The appearance of the 
marshes, except in its having few* trees, is not much unlike 
a swamp in some of our Southern States. Along one side 
of the road is a fine ditch or canal. The few people one 
meets in this desolate place are small and miserable-looking, 
with very sallow complexions. 

The fatal malaria is very bad throughout the whole ex- 
tent of the marshes. We soon arrived at the place called 
Appii Forum, where the brethren from Rome met St. Paul. 
It consists of a most miserable hotel, in the centre of the 
Pontine Marshes; there are one or two other houses, 
36 2 V2 



546 ROUTE TO NAPLES. 

churches and monasteries near ; but the general aspect, in 
spite of one or two green fields, is most cheerless. Here 
we partook of a meal amidst uninviting surroundings. The 
landlord, observing we were foreigners, indicated by signs 
that St. Paul stopped at his hotel and dined. It was some- 
thing, however, to have stood on the very place where the 
apostle did eighteen hundred j^ears ago. Most beautiful 
wild flowers here grow in profusion, some of which were 
preserved as mementoes by some of our party. The marshes 
are bounded on the left by the extremely irregular peaks 
of the mountains, some of which are snow clad. The bases 
of the mountains are wooded with olive groves. Along the 
side of the marshes next to the Mediterranean were, it is 
said, in the flourishing times of the Koman Empire, no less 
than twenty-three cities, and the entire m.arshes were culti- 
vated. The neoflect of the drains durins; asres of war, and 
the want of cultivation in a soil once so highly cultivated, 
probably induce the malaria, its fertile strength thus being 
perverted to a noxious poison instead of conducing to the 
welfare of man. There are some very picturesque-looking 
towns on the mountains. Sezze is one of these ; and on 
the right is seen, for a long distance, the noble Promontory 
of Circe, rising almost out of the blue Mediterranean Sea. 
The beauty of this bold limestone promontory, and its 
classical history, render it an interesting object. In one 
place near '' Foro Appio" we saw some cultivation; there 
were gangs of laborers at work with singular agricultural 
implements — some were hoeing the wheat, others turning 
up the black soil with spades; and one person with a large 
club in his hand superintended. In some places the marshes 
do not present so very dreary an appearance as old descrip- 
tions would lead one one to expect. The canal on the 
road-side, constructed by Augustus, and in modern times 
repaired by one of the Popes, is of considerable size, and a 
current of some force runs through it, which, after some 



ROUTE TO NAPLES. 547 

distance, carries its waters off to the sea. Another canal is 
now met^ the water of^which flows in precisely the opposite 
direction to the former; and, passing off to the sea, then 
another begins, the waters flowing the reverse direction to 
. the last — all showing: the enofineerinor skill with which these 
almost level marshes have been attempted to be reclaimed. 
Our driver proceeded with rapidity over the marshes, it 
being extremely dangerons to pass them after night. At 
length the mountains on the left approached the road and 
the sea, and portions of their slopes were covered with olive 
orchards. One very large orchard of olives we noticed, 
which belongs to Cardinal Antonelli, the Pope's Prime 
Minister, he being a native of this portion of the Papal 
territories. The profit of the olive is said to average one 
scudo, or a little over a dollar to each tree. At length we 
drew near Terracina, a celebrated station for ships in the 
times of the Roman Empire. It is on the side of a moaa- 
tain, where it projects toward the sea. Near it are old ruins 
of what appear to be tombs ; and above, on the crest of the 
mountain, frowns an ancient castle in ruins : and in the 
town are ruins of towers, walls and castles of many ages 
and eras. The Pontine Marshes here terminate, and the 
climate seemed almost changed. The graceful palm grew 
on the lower slopes of the mountain ; the orange and lemon 
seemed to rise out of ancient ruins; the aloe and pome- 
granate also flourish. Just on one side of the hotel next to 
the mountain is an immense mass of perpendicular rock^ 
detached from the mountain and standing out toward the 
sea. It is wooded on the top, and on its side is a cave, in 
which dwelt of old a hermit. The sea, the blue Mediterra- 
nean, here burst upon our sight like a glorious mirror of a 
glowing sky. Arriving some hours before night, and 
having completed our arrangements at the hotel, we began 
to ascend the steep, rocky, limestone mountain, covered 
with ruins of walls and citadels of the Goths, among which 



548 EOUTE TO NAPLES. 

now grow olive plantations. Arriving at the snrnmit, we 
came upon the ruins of the Palace pf Theodorie the Goth, 
one of the Gothic kings of Italy, who, after the taking of 
EomC; ruled in Italy for three quarters of a century. Theo- 
dorie himself reigned from A. D. 493 to 526. The scene of* 
enchanting beauty and sublimity here disclosed to the eye 
is almost unparalleled. The great blue sea on the west, 
with its islands glowing in the sunset rays; the sea, casting 
its waves in gladness on the shore ; Monte Girce, rising in 
romantic majesty against the western sky; the numerous 
.clouds, in gilded strata, hanging like rich drapery around 
the sun; the Pontine Marshes, on the north, dark, and 
level, and mist-clad; the tops of mountains behind us, 
glimmering redly in the sun; little embosomed lakes within 
them, sleeping, as it were, in adoration — all wore a glory 
and gladness fit for a God to create. On the left the vievv^ 
embraces several islands in the Bay of Naples. This siinset 
scene can only depart from the mind with the obliteration of 
memory. Long lines of bright and red light, like plumes, 
radiated from the gilded clouds over the sea, as if there were 
other suns beneath. The old castle, on whose grass-grown 
terrace we stood, is itself interesting. Its ruins are sup- 
ported by twelve immense arches in front or toward the 
sea ; back of these is a narrow passage, then a wide and 
very long corridor. Plere history went on in the long ago. 
The Bay of Terracina, which once held the Roman fleet, is 
now filling up with sand ; the glory of the Goth is no more, 
and Desolation now is king in these kingly halls. But this 
beautiful prospect, this sea and land view, and this sky, are 
lovely now as then I Man and his works pass, but Nature 
lives and glows in youth and beauty over his tombs ! The 
view from the ''castled crag of Drachenfels" on the Rhine 
is beautiful; those from Mount Righi or La Flegere, in Swit- 
zerland, are sublime ; but this view of the Italian sunset 
scene ou the sea, while standing on the ruins of the Gothic 



ROUTE TO NAPLES. 549 

Palace of Theodoric, seemed to me to have in it all the 
essence of the lovely. Descending the steep, rocky moun- 
tain on which Theodoric's palace was situated, and which 
was perhaps impregnable, except by the assaults of Time, 
we came upon numerous clusters of flowers, revelling in 
this sunny climate; and below this scene of beauty in 
nature we came to a part of the town on the hill- side, where 
there seemed to be every variety of wretchedness and 
poverty. Except in Ireland, I think I have seen nowhere 
such miserable hovels. They consist of a circular, low wall 
of stone, a foot or two in height, above which is a thatched 
superstructure, not admitting a man to stand ; there is no 
chimney, only a small fire in the centre of the hovel on the 
ground. The inmates, who are ragged children and half- 
clad women, come out of those places as if to remind you 
and themselves that they once were human too — and beg. 
Eeturning to our hotel, we found our dinner nearly pre- 
pared, which we discussed with the waves of the tideless 
sea of the south beatinof on the rocks on which our hotel 
stood, on one side, while on the other side the moonlight 
from the blue sky of Italy glimmered on the bare and rug- 
ged rocks, jutting out almost into the sea, while, high above, 
looked down, in the grandeur of decay, Theodoric's ancient 
tower. We had travelled about forty miles. 

This morning, Friday, February 26th, we were aroused 
at an early hour, having forty-two miles to go, and besides, 
expected to have several detentions on the route. The road 
passes through the gate of Terracina, which is between the 
high rock, six hundred feet high, and the sea, and then con- 
tinues for some distance along a narrow pass with the rush- 
ing, bounding, blue Mediterranean on one side, and the 
bleak mountains on the other. This pass Fabius Maximus 
maintained successfully against Hannibal. Passing some 
six miles, we came to the boundary of the " States of the 
Church," and entered the Kingdom of Naples, or that of the 



550 ROUTE TO NAPLES. 

"Two Sicilies." Oar passports were here demanded and 
examined, and in a few raom^ents we were no longer in tlie 
domains of the Popedom. The States of the Church are 
twenty in number, comprising the central portion, of Italy. 
The whole population is about three and a quarter millions.. 
The Pope's army consists of about sixteen thousand men. 
We were now in the dominions of King Bomba, the most 
contemptible, perhaps, of all the sovereigns in Europe. Our 
route now left the seaside, and advanced into the interior, 
among mountains presenting a succession of separate coni- 
cal peaks, some of which had snow on their high summits. 
Nearly the whole route was along the Appian Way, some 
of the large paving stones of which appeared in various 
places, and also the gigantic tombs, built of large stones and 
overgrown with shrubs and trees, and otherw^ise tenantless. 
The region through which we now passed, as well as that 
passed yesterday when approaching Cisterno, was in years 
past a noted resort of brigands, who robbed and murdered 
travelers, and concealed themselves in ruined castles among 
the mountains. Our vetturino conductor states that some 
thirty years past, when taking a party to Naples, as now, he 
was attacked at this place, and in a desperate conflict with 
the robbers, two of the latter were killed. A mile or two 
further on we were again stopped by a uniformed official, 
who visaed our passports, and required two pauls for the 
effort. Each of us paid one paul last night, in Terracina, 
for the same visa. A few yards further on there was 
another detention to procure a permit to go to Naples, for 
which another fee was demanded. These are specimens of 
some of the exactions of King Bomba's government. Our 
passports had each been declared " buono per Napoli " some 
seven or eight times. While officials were screaming on 
one side in regard to passports, beggars on the other were 
screeching in regard to their " poveri " — both being 
equalled in contemptibility only by the other. It is best, 



ROUTE TO NAPLES. 551 

in general, to submit to all these exactions with fortitude 
and resignation. The police, or armed force of the country, 
have always some of their numbers near the dogana, as 
these custom-houses are appropriately named, who would 
soon add force to injustice. Most travelers, therefore, 
gravely pay every exaction rather than be subjected to 
such humiliating contact. Passing these places, we had fine 
views of the verv sino^ular-looking^ stone villao^e of Mon- 
tralto, built all over the almost inaccessible peak of a 
mountain, the houses almost all windowless, or at all events 
.without glass in them. We soon approached the town of 
Fondi, where our passports were again demanded, and our 
luggage would have been examined, thereby causing a 
vexatious delay of more than an hour in this most misera- 
ble and filthy of all towns, apparently inhabited only by 
beggars and brigands, but a fee of eleven pauls to King 
Bomba's officers of law, paid openly, as a matter of course 
and custom, procured exemption. The town is among 
mountains; there are lovely orange groves, fig trees, and 
olive orchards in the vales. The old Appian Way may 
here be seen ; there are massive walls, ruins of Eoman 
tombs and villas. There are some green wheat fields, 
gardens, avenues of poplars; yet the town looks like a 
section cut out of the heart of hell. The streets are narrow 
— each house is independent of the line of the next one. 
The streets are covered with dirt, and looking down one of 
them, you may constantly see filthy water cast from the 
windows into it, as if the street were designed to be a com- 
mon receptacle for filth. The inhabitants seem to be half 
human beings — blear-eyed, crippled, deformed. They sur- 
round the carriage like a detachment of imps, begging, 
whining, crying, holding up and exposing sores on their 
legs, distress and Avant, hunger, famine, cold, vice, falsehood, 
all embodied, and all expressions of wretchedness cultivated. 
A sore is here a capital, want is a fund, and a disgusting, 



552 EOUTE TO NAPLES. 

loathsome Gountenance is at a premium. Human nature is 
infinitesimal in its possible degrees of degradation and ex- 
altation. This, as well as the next town through which we 
are to pass, have been known for many ages as the resort 
of robbers, who infest the mountain passes and ascents into 
which we now entered. The walls and towers around the 
city are in some places high and majestic, in others gray 
and tottering ; the lower parts of them show the strong, 
massy, Roman blocks, the upper the smaller and slighter 
constructions of the middle ages. Some of the houses have 
for their exterior walls those of the town. The women 
here wear highly colored costumes; they carry every thing 
on their heads, even large burdens, and many of them were 
seen standing up to their knees washing clothes on wooden 
racks. The vine grows well here, and produces good wine; 
the fig also flourishes finely. Ascending through the 
mountain pass the scene was very wild, almost Swiss-like, 
the mountains being very bare and bleak. The slowness 
of the carrias^e on ascendins; the mountain afforded us facil- 
ities for walking up the ascent, and for examining some 
local ruins. The road is now well guarded — the danger 
from robbers is less. Yet I saw several sinister-looking 
persons approaching us at certain places, and disappearing 
among the ruins on their being discovered. When Tasso, 
the poet, was desirous of traveling this route, the robbers 
showed their appreciation of literature, by sending him 
word that nothing should harm him, and that they would 
be proud to execute his orders. A lady of the Colonua 
family, residing near this in a castle, was so renowned for her 
beauty that it reached the ears of the Sultan of Turkey," 
and a descent was made on the castle at night, by a noted 
brigand, to carry her off and make a present of her to the 
Sultan. She escaped, however, and fled, naked, to the 
mountains, where she concealed herself. So that it is a 
dangerous thing, sometimes, to be too handsome. Our 



ROUTE TO NAPLES. 553 

party was composed of the best materials, botli of refine- 
ment and intellect, for enjoying and giving enjoyment; and 
our little friend Flora, a gem of a child, only seven or eight 
years old, with her prematurely thoughtful remarks, her 
mental and physical loveliness, her capacity above most 
children of being interested, gave an additional charm, 
while the grand mountain peaks invading the blue sky of 
Italy, the fresh and pleasant air, and the joyous sunlight, 
the lower slopes of the mountains arrayed in olive groves, 
with their dark and yet unpicked fruit hanging over the 
road, the bright green of the small leaf contrasting well 
with the black fruit, on which the sun shone — all made a 
tout ensemble of agreeable sensations. The soil here, not- 
withstanding its rocky appearance, produced the finest 
olives I have yet seen ; the fruit is somewhat less in size 
than a cherry. The scenes, as usual, present gray Roman, 
remains, carrying the mind back to a great people and a 
great Roman past. The next place through which we went, 
is Itri, another resort of brigands. It is a most picturesque 
place, however, being on an immense rock, in chasm, around 
which are lofty limestone mountains. The road passes 
around and below it, along the margin of a stream of black 
waters, over which are several stone bridsres of sin2:ular and 
strong masonr}^ A lofty and grand castle, with a strong and 
embattled wall passing up the rock, surmounts the I'ocky 
steep. Much of the town is outside the wall, on the sloping 
ledges of rock. The people here look grim and haggard, 
and beg naturally, spontaneously, and instinctively, as if it 
were their only inheritance. Advancing, our course de- 
scended through lovely olive groves, rich in their oblong, 
dark fruit, the shining sea suddenly reappeared, skirted 
with rocky mountains, and sooon the bright and beautiful 
bay, on which Moli di Gaeta is situated, was in fall view. 
But on the right of our course there was, in an olive 
orchard, a circular mass of masonry, nearly seventy feet 

2 w 



554 KOUTE TO NAPLES. 

high; and perhaps twenty feet in diameter. It is in ruins, 
however ; early spring flowers grow around it, like a neck- 
lace of memories — ivy hangs around it as if it ought to be 
immortal, and trees grow around it as if to protect it. It 
consists of two stories, with a strengthening tower within, 
supporting the second floor. The first story consists of 
solid masses of large stones. I entered the first story, and 
climbed up to the second on the outside, over the flowers 
and ivy, to the tomb-like apartment on the second story. 
Braving the sea blasts, strong and stately in its age and his- 
tory, it has stood for eighteen hundred and eighty years, 
preserved by and enshrining a memory as proud and 
sublime as any in Europe, or that ever will be there — a man 
basely and ungratefully murdered on this spot, murdered 
by a man whose life he had saved, abandoned by a country 
which he had preserved. It is the Tomb of Cicero ! When 
escaping to the seaside, the great orator was overtaken here 
and murdered — that eloquent tongue which had charmed 
all Rome, and which uttered sentences that have reverbera- 
ted through all time, was cut out and presented to Fulvia, 
the wife of Octavius Caesar, at her request — out-Heroding 
horror itself. Strangers from a far land, however, that ap- 
preciate his genius and greatness, cull flowers from his 
tomb, and bear them away as mementoes of unfortunate 
greatness, that left, however, a literature to a world. The 
ruins of Cicero's villa are now occupied in part by a hotel, 
on the seaside, where we rested some hours. The views are 
most magnificent, and the scenes are immortalized in the 
poetry of Homer, Yirgil, and Horace. On the rear are 
irregular, rocky mountains, almost bare of verdure, except 
moss, and in the distance, snow. In front is this splendid 
sea; the view extends to the islands in the Bay of Naples. 
From the hotel descends on the slope to the seaside one of 
the finest orange gardens, intermingled with lemons, olives, 
figs, apricots, pomegranates, that I have ever seen ; the 



KOUTE TO NAPLES. 655 

orange trees are full of the golden fruit — the lemons and 
olives are in their glory. The yellow fruit lies ripe on the 
ground, and fells frequently from the trees like ingots of 
gold. The waves beat upon the garden walls. On the 
right is Gaeta, with towers and castles on conical hills. On 
the left is an orange villa belonging to the King of Naples. 
"We strolled through the golden groves, saw the Eomau 
reticulated masonry of Cicero's villa, where he dwelt with 
his friends in his prosperous days, surrounded by all that is 
lovely in nature. In one place on these grounds I came 
suddenly upon a small urn-like sepulchre, on the lid of 
which I read, with some surprise, a very pretty epitaph, in 
English, on a child. The lid of the tomb stood partly open, 
and within you saw the small coffin. The child's name was 
"Minna"; there were three verses; no name, date, or in- 
scription ; all was, however, simple, sad, and affecting — a 
solitary child tomb in an orange grove, in so celebrated a 
spot. The lines were copied for an amiable lady of our 
party, and were as follows : — 

'* Here Minna calmly lies 

Far from their loving eyes 
And tender hands Avho laid her in the grave, 

And strewed her couch with flowers 

From perfumed orange howers, 
And myrtle groves, that stoop to kiss the wave. 

"0 gentle passer-hy, 

The trihute of a sigh 
Leave, as an offering, in this flowery dell ; 

And as you turn to go, 

A kindly tear bestow, 
On Minna's grave, lost because loved too well. 

"But yet, a moment stay. 

And bear a flower away — 
A flower of hope from Minna's grave that springs ! 

Learn not to rest your heart 

On joys that soon depart, 
Nor give too much of love to earthly things." 



.556 EOUTE ■ TO NAPLES. 

•The singalarity of meeting this solitary grave here, with an 
Eni)lish inscription, struck us all as being a beautiful and 
affecting incident. They were English or Americans, per- 
haps, who were traveling in Italy, and at this place lost 
their child, and departed on their way without her. She 
rests afar from her parents, who, perhaps, often think of her 
valued dust on this seashore of Italy — the memory of wliose 
beauty is to them darkened by such a loss. The little coffin 
of the unknown Minna indicated her to be about five or six 
years old. 

Leavino- this fine hotel, where we took our breakfast, or 
dejeuner a la fourchetteyWQ departed on our course, which lay 
aloncr the sea, blue and boundless, and near a vale of olive 
orchards, ruins, gray and hoar and desolate, rising among 
them. Arriving at the Mola, passports were again exam- 
ined into, and the desire of the officers to examine our bag- 
gage was commuted into a desire for six pauls, which we 
paid and parted. Of course all begged if 3^0 u looked at 
them. They lay in the sun, and women sat in the doors 
divesting each other of vermin. But there appeared to 
be ragged happiness, and they enjoyed the wealth of a fine 
climate, and we saw forms and faces among them that 
would not disgrace a Roman ancestry. We now passed 
through a very extensive and beautiful region, where figs, 
olives, vines, citrons, etc., all grew in great profusion. The 
sea was on one side, and on the other barren, rocky, moun- 
tains, with, occasionally, a comfortless town on one of the im- 
pregnable peaks. At length we approached the beautiful 
river, Garigliano, which runs through a large plain of great 
beauty. Here are vast ruins of Roman aqueducts, on 
arches, striding across the plain, like those of the Campagna 
of Rome. Many hundred arches yet remain, perhaps thirty 
feet high, supporting the large brick canal in which the 
water ran. Here also are extensive ruins of theatres and 
amphitheatres, and Roman reticulated, or net-like brick- 



ROUTE TO NAPLES. 557 

work, exhibiting all the strength and energy possessed by 
that powerful, passed-away people. There is no city here 
now, nothing but these unsightly ruins, through v/hich we 
walked; to mark its place. It was the Eoman city Min- 
turnde that stood here. It was near this city, in the marshes 
of the river^ that Caius Marius concealed himself, and when 
pursued by order of his enemy, Sylla, was discovered 
almost sunk in the marsh by a soldier, who, stimulated by 
the reward for his head, was about to kill him, when Marius 
sternly demanded of him, how he dared to kill Caius 
Marius, with an attitude so imperial, that the soldier fell on 
his knees and implored pardon. We crossed the river here, 
and some miles further brought us to Saint Agata, where we 
remained all night. We saw on our route many persons 
in most ragged costumes — women as well as men — at work 
in the fields, using a small, three-cornered shovel as a spade, 
to turn up large fields. I have seen but one plow in this 
country, and that was of wood. The moon had arisen as 
we drove through the arched gateway of our hotel, near St, 
Agata. Our first feeling was dislike of the dirt we encoun- 
tered everywhere — many of the lower apartments of tlie 
inns in Italy being stables. The landlord then showed us 
suits of cloister-like rooms — the hotel looking as if it had 
been an ancient convent. None of the rooms being very eli- 
gible, we were much disposed to quarrel with our vetturino 
conductor, but at length we concluded to be satisfied, ordered 
our dinner at a certain hour, examined the Eegister, and 
seated around the fire, the latter a luxury the Italians do not 
seem to require, we could discuss the scenes through which 
we had passed during the day ; so we gave up our passports, 
paid all the fees, and deported ourselves humbly and meekly. 
Every traveler writes his name in the Eegister, his nation, 
and generally, in addition to that, makes some remarks 
about the hotel ; these are, sometimes, outrageously con- 
demnatory, sometimes amusing, sometimes approbatory ; 

2 w 2 



558 ROUTE TO NAPLES. 

but the landlord and Avaiters, knowing nothing of English, 
retain these notices of their own hotel, often against their 
own interest, for years. These remarks in the Register are 
often useful to travelers, as they direct his attention to the 
best or worst hotels on his route. On the whole, w^e were 
rather pleased with the hotel, notwithstanding our first im- 
pressions, especially wath the coffeC; and on our departure 
next morning wrote, after describing our reception by the 
landlord, 

" If to his share some human errors fall, 
Drink of his coffee — you'll forget them all !" 

As we addressed our landlord in French, and stated our 
objections pretty plainly, he, after replying to us civilly in 
French, relieved himself by privately cursing us in Italian, 
not knowing we understood him. Dinner, which we 
ordered at seven o'clock in the evening, being over, we 
strolled through the ancient town, with its towers and ruins 
rising high in the soft moonlight. It is on a hill, and its 
peaceful and poor inhabitants seem to be suiTiciently happy 
in the luxury of such a climate, and such scenes, without 
requiring such things as comfort, plenty, or a good govern- 
ment, all of which people in other countries may have, and 
yet be dissatisfied. The climate seems almost changed, and 
even the Italian language is not the dialect of Florence or 
Rome, but is softer, and one begins to feel that he is in the 
South of Italy. 

Leaving here the next morning, Saturday, February 
28th, at half-past seven o'clock, the morning being clear, 
though cool, we began to ascend a ridge, on our left appear- 
ing several old, changeless villages, perched on the moun- 
tains around us — the barren and rocky mountains sometimes 
enclosing fertile vales of greenness below the villages. 
Descending this elevation, an immense horizon spread out 
in front — a grand central object appeared suddenly before us 



ROUTE TO NAPLES. 559 

— a mountain, beautiful and regular in its outline, like a 
pyramid. It was Yesuvius, rising high in the air, with a 
vast jet of smoke issuing from it. The wind was from the 
sea and carried the vast volume of smoke landward, and 
the sunlityht ffilded its surface and clouds mino^led with 
it. Sometimes it resembled an inverted cone of variegated 
darkness, sitting on the summit of the upright cone of 
Vesuvius — sometimes like a storm-tossed, lio-htninsf-rent 
cloud; and then it become more peaceful, as if it were a lad- 
der ascending to heaven — then like towers and battlements 
of a city of old. On our right was the sea Avith its islands, 
on the left the bare, scathed-looking mountains, with some 
snow on their cold summits. 

We arrived at Capua, on our route, about ten o'clock, 
where we remained some hours, taking a poor dejeuner, in 
dirty rooms, at a miserable hotel ("La Posta"), worse than 
the one in which we stayed last night, yet the best in this 
strongly fortified town. This city does not occupy the site 
of ancient Capua, where Hannibal led his army after the 
battle of Cannae, instead of marching them to Eome, and 
terminating the existence of the Roman empire, as is 
thought he could have done, since, in that battle, he slew 
eighty thousand of their best soldiers. The city of Capua, 
the residence in which so enervated his army, is within two 
miles of this place, disclosing ruins of amphitheatres even 
more extensive than the Coliseum. Modern Capua, in 
Avhich we now are, is almost surrounded by the river 
Volturnus, which runs with a very swift current ; the city 
is further defended by double walls and moats. We passed 
the river and moats on several drawbridges; and if old 
Hannibal were to rise out of the dust of Asia in which he 
lies, and where he voluntarily, by his death, "freed the 
Romans from their anxiety, since they had not patience to 
wait for an old man's death," he would find such imple- 
ments and arts of war as he never dreamed of when his old 



560 NAPLES. 

Africans made their furious onslauglit into Italy by first 
conquering the Alps themselveS; the first time the hoar 
mountains ever felt the tread of an army. We walked 
through the dirty, beggarly city, full of soldiers, and entered 
the Cathedral, now undergoing repairs in a very elegant 
manner. It has, in a recess below, a fine recumbent statue 
of a dead Christ and his Mother (called a Pieta), some 
stained glass windows, and some rather good paintings. 
We left Capua at one o'clock. Approaching Kaples (one 
hundred and tAventy-nine miles from Rome), we found the 
roads very vade, the land level, fertile, and one continued 
vineyard, the vines festooned to elms, and the land under- 
neath green and lovely with grain. This is the " happy 
Campagna," which is said now, and was said two thousand 
years ago, to be the finest land in Italy. It looks not unlike 
the Campagna of Rome in respect to quality of soil, and 
perhaps resembles, in regard to cultivation, what the Roman 
Campagna once was, ere neglect and war had allowed the 
malaria to possess it. It is the finest vineyard in the world. 
This is the finest road I have ever seen anywhere. There 
are three rows of trees on each side, and two ditches on 
each side ; it is broad enough for seven or eight carriages to 
be driven abreast, is throughout of equal hardness, and 
descends gently from the centre to each side. Approaching 
Naples the scene is very difierent from that a^Dproaching 
RomxC. There every thing is dead and departed, and the 
autumn of time seems resting. But here we were met by 
a most singular sort of population, motley and monstrous ; 
there was an accumulation of gay raggedness and beggar- 
dom almost ludicrous. The broad road was almost 
thronged with various kinds of vehicles, generally one- 
horse concerns with two wheels, on which were fifteen or 
twenty ragged persons clinging on, in, and under the vehi- 
cle. These are, probably, sections or detachments of the 
''ragged regiment," or lazzaroni of Naples, thirty thousand 



NAPLES. 561 

strong, of whose business, means of living, or concerns, 
beyond the mere fact of their being alive and ragged, no 
one knows any thing. There were vendors of oranges, 
flowers, all kinds of large and small things portable or pos- 
sible ; women in antique and curious stages of ugliness, and 
occasionally girls of rare, dark, and spiritual beauty — all 
was a stunning conglomeration of astonishing individuali- 
ties. At the Dogaua, or Custom House, we paid for the 
non-examination of our baggage; further on, our passports 
were demanded — taken from us this time, a receipt given us 
in exchange for them, for which we paid a fee, and the 
name of the hotel where we expected to stop required. The 
billet we received required us to undergo certain formalities, 
and pay certain fees, and procure certain papers before we 
could stay in the city, or go away from it, or get our pass- 
ports again. When in the city, it impressed us rather 
favorably. The streets through which we passed were 
crowded with the great population of Naples (it has four 
hundred and fourteen thousand inhabitants); they were 
spacious, wide, and roomy, though as we passed along the 
principal streets we could see glimpses of long and more 
narrow ones on each side, with very high houses; there 
were rents in some of the walls of the houses and churches, 
occasioned by earthquakes, the walls being propped up. 
The great Asylum for the Poor, one of the largest build- 
ings in the world, with its dependencies accommodates five 
thousand persons; then we came to the building called the 
Museo Borbonico, second only to the Vatican in the inter- 
esting nature of its collections. We then entered the Strada 
Toledo, the principal street in the city, with very lofty 
houses, few of them having any chimneys, on account of the 
mildness of the climate, but all havmg iron balconies before 
each window, on which to sit and enjoy the climate and the 
views. Occasionally, as you pass, there are glimpses of the 
strong castle of St. Elmo, occupying a high hill in the 
86 



562 NAPLES. 

centre of the city. We soon came to the Royal Palace, a 
magnificent building, in front of which is a beautiful Largo, 
or Square, semi-surrounded by a grand colonnade ; then on 
your left, across an arm of the bay, you have fine views of 
Vesuvius, appearing quite near, though it is five or six miles 
to the base of it, looking like the chimney of hell ; there 
are several peaks on its left, and around the base of the 
volcano is the thickest population in Europe. Then you 
come to the main part of the bay, extending before you in 
its unparalleled beauty. Solemn old Rome, with its over- 
shadowing greatness in the past, is left behind, and we are 
under a brighter sky, with a broad, beautiful sea-like bay 
before us, on which the sunlight sleeps as if it loved it ; the 
land, too, embraces the bay on three sides, as if protecting 
it, and in front reposes the island of Capri, its irregular out- 
line against the sky, like a sleeping giant, while Vesuvius 
is on our left, its smoke ever ascending from it, and some- 
times throwing upward sparks of fire — there being a small 
bay between the main part of the city and the base of the 
mountain.- Several villages, regardless and unconscious of 
danger, cluster around the base of Vesuvius. We selected 
the " Hotel de Russie," in the quarter Santa Lucia, fronting 
on the bay. The hotels here are all good : their wide, mar- 
ble staircases, lofty rooms, balconies, and paintings, indicate 
elegance and comfort, especially to us who have been for 
four days among the vetturino inns of Central Italy. There 
are no drawbacks or discomforts in Naples but earthquakes 
and red-hot lava. This evening I walked in the Villa 
Reale, or the King's Villa, in front of the bay — this being 
the favorite evening resort of the Neapolitans, like the 
Pincian Hill at Rome. It is enclosed by iron railings, and 
guarded at its entrances by soldiers, who allow no servants, 
peasants, or beggars to enter it, except on one day in the 
year. It has numerous long and winding walks, fine trees, 
consisting of the evergreen oak, the palm, various kinds of 



MUSEO BOKBONICO. 563 

pines. Some of the trees are now out most beautifully in 
bloom. On one side it has the lovely bay, with its waves 
dashing against it, and far out is seen the great dragon-look 
ing island of Capri, rendered so notorious by the residence, 
the vices, and the temples of Tiberius ; Vesuvius is also in 
view, and the Castle of Ova on a huge rock near the shore, 
and the very bluff sand rocks, with castles above them, on 
which the modern city is built. The sea air here is delight- 
ful. Below this promenade is another, much inferior, in- 
tended for the lower classes. As in all other places on the 
Continent, there is English Protestant service. It is held in 
the Palace Calabritto. Here, as at Florence, the only two 
places where payment is compulsory, though in all other 
places it is expected one must pay before entering the door^ 
the price is four carlini, or about thirty-two cents for a 
seat ; this is exacted at the door. We had a good sermon, 
however, in return. There was also a sermon delivered to- 
day, in English, by a Catholic priest, in the church San 
Francesco di Paolo, opposite the Royal Palace in the Largo 
(or Square) Reale. This was one of the weakest sermons 
ever delivered, as have been most Catholic sermons I have 
heard in Europe. Their object seems to be to bewilder 
rather than inform, and unsettle that they may then settle 
by the mere authority of the Church, rather than instruct. 
The Catholic as well as the Episcopal Church is stronger in 
the service than in the sermons. 

To-day, Monday, March 1st, our party began to sight-see 
in Naples, We visited the Museo Borbonico, or Borbon 
Museum, passing along the Strada Toledo, the noisiest 
street in Europe, and for a certain extent the most densely 
peopled. We went first into the Museum of Ancient 
Sculpture. This consists of four or five long galleries filled 
with choice remains of Greek and Roman sculpture and 
mosaic work. Some have been found in various villas 
around Naples, some brought from the Farnese Palace in 



564 MUSEO BORBONICO. 

Eome; but the most have been brought from the disinterred 
Eoman cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. The statues 
and busts are generally in fine Greek marble, some are in 
porphyry, and consist of the Eoman emperors, Eoman and 
Greek philosophers, poets, and orators, and also numerous 
subjects drawn from their mythology. Many of them are 
very fine, possessing strongly delineated features; few are 
merely handsome, but many highly characteristic of a peo- 
ple and of persons who left so conspicuous an impression on 
this world's . history. We may see in these busts that they 
were a people of strongly defined feelings, and powerful in 
intellect or character for good or ill — not negative, unde- 
cided, half-way, or handsome men, but bold, strong, and 
infiuential. The statues that seemed most remarkable were 
those of Julius Caesar, Aristides, Caligula, Tiberius, the 
goddess Flora, a mosaic of the Battle of Issus, representing 
Darius, Alexander the Great, a Grecian War Chariot, also 
many persons in deadly conflict, found in Pompeii, and 
reckoned the grandest mosaic of ancient times in the world. 
Many of these statues stood in the houses and theatres of 
the lava-buried cities. The statue of Aristides is reckoned 
the finest in the collection. The grace, dignity, and nobility 
of the posture, attitude, and expression, are wonderful. 
The drapery is fine. The whole is perfectly exquisite and 
marvelously remarkable. His attitude is most impressive 
and intellectual. Some regard it as ^schines, the Greek 
orator, one of the most honorable men of antiquity. The 
statue of Caligula is a very rare one indeed — the Eoman s, 
to show their abhorrence of that merciless and mean impe- 
rial scoundrel, having destroyed every memorial of him at 
his death. It expresses low, dangerous cunning. The bust 
of Julius Caesar is most impressive and commanding. All 
rivalry must have ceased in the presence of such a man. 
The sitting statue of Agrippina, lamenting in acute, hope- 
less, despairing anguish the death of Germanicus, is a 



MUSEO BOEBONICO. 565 

splendid representation of imperial agony. Those of Homer, 
Herodotus, Demosthenes, Thucydides, are fine. Many of the 
statues have been sadly mutilated, and required extensive 
restorations. Some of the statues are in green basalt, some 
in porphyry, some in Oriental alabaster, but the most in 
fine Greek and Carrara marble. The worst of them seem 
superior in real executive and admitted genius, in the fer- 
tility and lavishness of artistic power, in Homeric grandeur 
and Yirgilian grace, to most of the modern works I have 
seen. There was a largeness about old Greek and Eoman 
power that the human mind seems to have lost. We live 
in the Composite age of the world. 

We went also into the Egyptian department, consisting 
of mummies — old, very — with the linen folds around them, 
grinning horribly, all; some mere bones, some mere rags 
or old clothes, some in their curiously carved stone or wood 
coffins, lying as left four thousand years ago in Egypt, 
others separate from the cofiin. There were Egyptian gods, 
idols, priests, priestesses, in marble — in black and green 
basalt — sarcophagi in black granite; there were presses 
containing Egyptian charms or instruments of magic, 
papyrus with Greek characters on it sixteen hundred years 
old — Isis and Osiris — things strange, dreary, and entirely 
different from the present of this world. Many of them 
from Thebes, in Egypt; they are interesting, horrid, and 
wonderful. 

We went also into the apartments containing no less 
than sixteen hundred fresco paintings, all found in the 
buried cities. This is the famous collection of ancient 
frescoes. They are generally of small size, which were on 
the walls of the houses in Herculaneum and Pompeii, and 
on the disinterment of those cities from their seventeen 
hundred years burial in ashes, these fresco paintings, with 
the plaster on which they were, were detached from the 
walls with great care, and removed to this place. They 

2x 



566 CATHEDBAL. 

represent all possible sorts of subjects — some historical^ 
many mythological, some very much faded, almost indis- 
tinct, some restored and repainted in modern times, so as to 
render the design more evident^ some very beautiful and 
life-like. The eye almost wearies with the number of 
objects. The interment of these cities has been a fortunate 
thing for the moderns, as it has thus preserved these works 
of ancient art almost perfect, which, otherwise, would have 
been lost in the convulsions of a living city, as those of 
Rome and many other places have been. As statues of the 
finest kind have been dug up everywhere throughout Italy, 
we see thereby the splendor, wealth, and refinement of the 
Roman Enpire, notwithstanding the vast numbers destroyed 
by inappreciative barbarians, who, in their irruptions, 
ground down the statues, and sometimes used them in their 
lime kilns. Many of the paintings in this hall represent 
scenes from Homer. One representing Achilles <delivering 
Briseis to the herald of Agamemnon, is considered the finest 
specimen extant of ancient painting. There are thirteen 
that represent dancing girls, all remarkable for their grace 
of attitude. Some of the paintings are very fine and ex- 
pressive, but they are principally remarkable on account of 
their having been buried for many centuries, and for the 
direct contact they bring us to in regard to the interior 
adornments of the Roman houses. There is a gallery of 
mosaics, also, into which we entered. One, a " Cat devour- 
ing a bird," is considered very fine; a "Skeleton grasping a 
vase in each hand " is thought to be one of those warnings or 
emblems the ancients had at their feasts, to remind them 
of the mutability of happiness. With our mind almost 
fatigued by the number of the objects in this Museum, we 
reserved the remainder of its seventeen great divisions for 
other days. 

We walked to the Cathedral church, in the most dense 
part of the city. It is a Gothic edifice, is very old, though 



CHAPEL OF SAN GENNARO. 567 

much inferior in antiquity to many churches m Eome. It 
has some fine paintings. It was originally built on the 
ruins of a Temple of Apollo, and some of the columns of its 
fine chapels, consisting of African and Egyptian granite, are 
portions of the ancient temple. It has been much damaged 
by earthquakes. The appearance of the church in the 
interior is very imposing, on account of the great height of 
its flat, gilded ceiling, and in the height of its multiform 
columns. The baptismal font is an antique vase of 
Egyptian basalt, resting on a pedestal of porphyry, and was 
originally designed for a less sacred use than that to which 
it is now appropriated, as it is sculptured over with Bac- 
chanalian emblems. Connected to it is the subterranean 
tomb of San Gennaro, and an entrance from the church leads 
into a remarkable, old-looking church, which was the an- 
cient Cathedral, which has many mosaics twelve hundred 
years old, which have a peculiarly grave and ghostly appear- 
ance. Opposite to the entrance to this chapel, is that to the 
chapel of San Gennaro, or St. Januarius. This saint is held 
in the greatest possible regard at Naples. His blood is con- 
tained in two small vials, and its reliquefaction, which takes 
place twice a year regularly, is the greatest religious festi- 
val in the kingdom. St. Januarius, according to the tradi- 
tion, was exposed to the lions in the amphitheatre of Poz- 
zuoli — the lions, however, in admiration of the Saint, 
refused to devour him, and prostrated themselves before 
him. He was then decapitated, and a part of his blood has 
been preserved for fifteen hundred years. If the liquefac- 
tion is delayed, it is esteemed some curse impends over the 
city. During the recent alarm of earthquakes, the blood, 
on being consulted, as it generally is on occasions of sup- 
posed crises, was found to liquefy readily, which immedi- 
ately diffused joy through the city. The vials are kept in 
a tabernacle in this chapel, secured by two locks, the key 
of one being kept by the Cardinal Archbishop, the other by 



568 NAPLES. 

the municipal authorities. "When the blood is to be con- 
sulted, the vials are brought out under ti glass case, Mass 
is said until the liquefaction takes place ; and if it is delayed, 
old, rowdy-looking women of the lo'west classes, who assert 
themselves to be relatives of St. Januarius, after exhausting 
Pater Fosters, Aves, and all sorts of prayers, begin to abuse 
the Saint, call him the most offensive names, and howl and 
shriek in a horrid manner, scolding the Saint. After a 
number of Masses have been said, and all have gotten sufn- 
ciently excited, the miracle takes place ; the small clot of 
blood in the vials becomes liquid, the people are then paci- 
fied, the danger is thought to be over, and the Saint is blessed 
by those who had just been cursing him. Of the fact of 
the liquefaction of something in the vials, there is no doubt, 
but it probably is accomplished by means of some secret 
machinery. When the miracle is complete, it is announced 
by the roar of cannons. When the French got possession 
of Naples, the blood was consulted, and the liquefaction 
delayed a long time, insomuch that a tumult began, and it 
was thought there would be an insurrection, as the Saint 
was thought to be displeased that the French were in the 
city. Whereupon the French commandant sent word to the 
officiating priest that if the liquefaction were delayed ten 
minutes, he would have the priest shot and the chapel 
destroyed. The liquefaction took place immediately, and it 
was ascribed to the goodness of the Saint, who wished to 
spare the effusion of blood. So the Saint got the credit of 
it at last. We did not see the vials containine^ the blood. 
This chapel contains no less than seven altars and forty-two 
columns of fine marbles. There are many tombs in this 
church, some of kings, Popes, and cardinals. 

From this we returned toward our hotel, passing through 
the great, dirty, narrow-streeted city, with the constant 
crowd, the cataract of population. It is half Oriental, partly 
Southern, a little European, and thoroughly Italian in its 



HERCULANEUM. 569 

appearance in this, the old part of the city. "We went 
along the Mole, or embankment, partially protecting the 
harbor, which is strongly guarded and defended. We saw 
the great and strong Castello Nuova, defending that portion 
of the bay and the part of the city adjoining the King's 
Palace. The king is said to be universally disliked, except 
by the beggars and those who are immediately subservient 
to him. Opposite the palace of the king is a fine, new, 
modern church, forming part of the Koyal Square. It is 
exactly the shape of the Pantheon in Rome, and resembles 
it much in its internal arrangements. It has some beauti- 
ful modern paintings, and is highly ornamented. 

To-day, Tuesday, March 2d, we have been, indeed, face to 
face with the past, in its grave. Having made all our 
arrangements with respect to carriages, we proceeded from 
Naples, passing along the extreme end of the bay, where, 
occasionally, we had fine views of the waters dashing in 
their beauty against the shore. Vesuvius, always a promi- 
nent object in the views around Naples, showed in clear 
outline against the sky, immediately on our left, the road 
passing around the base, from which the mountain ascends, 
gradually, on all sides, for several miles, after which the 
sloping ascent of the cone is very steep. A vast volume of 
smoke arose constantly from the crater. The part of Naples 
through which we passed abounds in the lazzaroni, fisher- 
men, sailors, women of most strange costumes and appear- 
ances here live in the open air, beg when they can, enjoy 
life^ and suicide Avould be the last of their thoughts. There 
were many small shrines, with beautiful portraits of the 
Madonna and Child, which at night are illuminated by a 
lamp, affixed to the houses, and defended from the weather 
by a glass cover. These meet the eye everywhere in 
Naples. A statue of St. Januarius, who is the Patron Saint 
of Naples, and shares with the Virgin their devotions, 
stands on the bridge over that ancient river, the Sebeto, 

2x2 



570 HEECULANEUM. 

with one hand directed toward Vesuvius, in a threatening 
manner, as if averting destruction from his favorite city. 
Further on we entered the long, straggling villages of Por- 
tici and Eesina, built on the lava of Vesuvius, which 
overwhelmed Herculaneum, which latter lies immediately 
underneath — the knowledge of it having been lost for fifteen 
hundred years — and on its lava covering of eighty feet in 
thickness other cities having grown up. It is recorded that 
from the fifth to the eighteenth century, Herculaneum and 
Pompeii were both forgotten. Herculaneum was originally 
a Greek city ; it was conquered by the Komans, and became 
celebrated among them as a place of enchanting sojourn, 
but it disappeared all at once in the year A. D. 79 ; the 
ashes and torrents of fire leaping from various mouths of 
Vesuvius devastated the entire city. The volcanic mud 
filled the buildings nearly to their roofs, after which came 
showers of ashes and lava, which hardened into solid rock, 
varying in depth from seventy to one hundred and twenty 
feet. The city beneath was discovered by a person who was 
digging a well, and who came upon numerous statues and 
different kinds of marbles ; this being communicated to the 
Prince d'Elbeuf, who, about the year 1720, was construct- 
ing a palace near, for which he wished to procure some fine 
marbles. Further excavations were made during a space of 
five years, by the prince, and numerous fragments of mar- 
ble recovered, without his knowing what lost city lay 
beneath. Since then numerous excavations have been 
made and many ancient works found ; but owing to the 
difficulty of excavating under the towns above, the work 
has nearly been discontinued, and the places filled up, in 
order to render secure the property above. It is ascertained 
that the city was originally built on a crust of lava. Pass- 
ing through a very dirty, modern street in Eosina, paved 
with lava stones, we came to the entrance of the descent 
into the buried city. The guide appointed by the govern- 



HERCULANEUM. 571 

ment, and stationed here, gave to eacli one of the party a 
candle, and preceded us into the cave-like aperture, descend- 
ing by steps cut into the lava. After a descent in this way 
of some distance, we came to the excavated theatre, about 
sixty-five feet below the level of the streets above, the 
rattling of the carriages over which we heard distinctly — 
all the tumult of a modern city going on above, while we 
were threading the avenues of a buried one below — a city 
of silence. We descended the original stone steps, once 
adorned with marble statues, and we wound along numer- 
ous passages cut through the solid lava. We trod on the 
stage, the place for the orchestra, seats for the spectators, 
saw the niches for the statues, some of the frescoes, marble 
cornices, saw the impress of a human face in the lava — all 
buried suddenly, with eighty feet of solid lava above them, 
and eighteen centuries gone by since. The whole of the 
theatre has not been excavated. The lava rock above is 
supported in some places by buttresses. The theatre was, 
probably, larger than any now in Europe. Some assert it 
would seat thirty-five thousand persons. Here, then, they 
sat and enjoyed the scenes till the flood of lava came. 
Other buildings, basilicas and temples, and portions of a 
street which led down to the sea, were partially excavated. 
Eeturning along an ancient corridor cut in the lava, by 
which the Komans left the theatre, we ascended the steps to 
the light of day, and walked along the dirty modern street 
to another excavation in that part of the city lying next to 
the sea. Here we entered and descended, to the level of the 
ancient city, some forty feet thickness of lava, as hard as 
any stone, having been removed from a space equal to 
several acres, and the whole scene lay exposed to the sun. 
The scene was most sad and singular. We walked through 
the houses of the extinct Herculaneans ; they were, in gen- 
ercil, but two stories high, being built almost universally of 
Roman brick and volcanic stone. In some places the stone 



572 HERCULANEUM. 

had decayed into sand, while the mortar remained. We 
saw the carbonized wooden parts of the houses, the stucco 
and marble pillars surrounding the internal portico of the 
houses, the bed chambers with their walls in vivid colors 
of fresco paintings. The houses that have been disinterred 
have received different names, referring to the paintings, 
or some circumstance attending the exhumation. The 
paved street is here laid bare with the raised side-walk for 
foot-passengers. We went into numerous bed-chambers of 
the Eomans. The roofs were crushed in by the lava, and 
were removed in the excavations. There were many arti- 
cles of household use, vases of pottery — one piece that had 
been broken, and was ingeniously mended ; also a small 
marble table in a garden, by the side of which was found 
the skeleton of a lady seated, with a golden bracelet on her 
arm. In another place was shown an excavated apartment, 
serving as a prison for the slaves belonging to the family; 
under this was the dungeon for criminal slaves, four of 
whose skeletons were found here with the chains around 
their ancles. In another apartment was the altar on which 
sacrifices were offered ; the niche for the idol and the priests' 
room were adjoining. Many of the floors of the rooms 
were in beautiful mosaic. Eare and beautiful wild flowers 
are growing over this scene, and some roses are in bloom in 
the recultivated gardens of the Herculaneans, on which fifty 
feet of lava had lain for seventeen hundred and ninety 
years. There is more than half a mile of lava between the 
city and the sea, though in some places are to be seen shops 
and wharves, once immediately on its waters, showing an 
extension of the banks seaward as the lava rolled down. 
As only a small part of the ancient city has been dug into, 
there is thus evidently a whole unexcavated city lying 
under the modern one. The mountain burns above it as of 
old, but the people have passed and perished, and the city 
has had the fate of Sodom. Vesuvius has cast out of its 



POMPEII. 578 

bosom pumice stone, cinders, ashes, and mud enough to 
make ten times its own bulk. Whence comes the supply 
to keep in activity a volcano for thousands of years? The 
lava here is extremely hard and difficult to excavate into. 
In this place, as well as in the underground theatre, the 
custodes point out the different places where the most cele- 
brated paintings and statues, now removed to the museum, 
were found. Herculaneum, about the time of the Christian 
era, was a place of great trade and commerce. 

To-day, Wednesday, March 8d, we have stood in another 
sepulchral city of the olden. Our party, consisting of seven 
persons, left Naples by railway, and passed along the base 
of Vesuvius. We had splendid views of Naples — of that 
part of the city situated on the seaward slope of the hill, 
which is surmounted by the Castle of St, Elmo. On our 
right we had also fine views of the sea waves, break- 
ing and dashing in white foam on the black lava beach. 
The railway passes through the cities of Portici and Resina — ■ 
over Herculaneum — through Torre del Greco and Torre 
del Annunziata. On the left were the rugged, bold, scorched 
sides of Vesuvius, with the various rivers of dried-up lava, 
the eruptions of various eras. An upward stream of black 
smoke rose constantly from the crater, high above us. The 
view of the volcano at night is very interesting. The great 
volume of smoke is interspersed with frequent bursts of 
flame, rising and falling at intervals, as if they were great 
throbbings of some vexed, remorseful heart beneath. Much 
of the ground near the city of Naples, on this side, is covered 
with fine gardens, now green with spring vegetables for the 
city market. These gardens are irrigated by water elevated 
mechanically a few feet into cisterns, built of brick, from 
which extend to various parts of the grounds small aque- 
ducts. Parts of the coast consist of small villages, inhabited 
by boatmen. More than seventy thousand persons live im- 
mediatelv about the base of Vesuvius, Much of the soil is 



574. POMPEII. 

very rich. In some places are successive layers of lava and 
rich soil, showing how indefatigable Nature had, in the 
course of years, garmented the fierce lava with greenness 
and arable soil, to be in after ages overwhelmed by the 
destroying mountain. There are many fine fig and olive 
orchards and splendid vine plantations along the base of 
the mountain ; and at some places could be seen ruins of 
Koman villas, peering above half excavated ruins. Leaving 
the railway at the " Stazione Pompeia," we procured a guide 
for the day, and, entering a gate near a restaurant, we walked 
up an ascent, which is part of the immense tumulus of ashes 
inclosing the unexcavated walls of the city on the side next 
to the sea, which latter once washed the walls of the city, 
though now over a half a mile distant. We then passed 
through a fertile field, interspersed with numerous mulberry 
trees, on which the vine is pendent, this field being on 
and around the unexcavated part of the city. The ruined 
city of stone and Eoman brick, roofless and gray, and of 
considerable size, with long, silent streets, destitute of in- 
habitants, appeared on our right — the skeleton of a city. 
This was Pompeia. Nothing could be sadder looking in 
that bright Italian air, in presence of that glistening sea, 
and that yet threatening mountain, than this aspect of gray 
ruin, this city of the departed, this unrolled mummy of a 
city, on which we gazed. Our guide conducted us to the 
Street of the Tombs — a broad, paved Eoman way — an ex- 
tension of the Via Appia, which led to this city. It has nu- 
merous deep ruts or marks of wheels in the solid pavement, 
and it is lined on each side with tombs. The street is paved 
with blocks of lava, closely fitted together, and on each side 
is a raised thoroughfare for pedestrians. This street has 
been likened to what the Via Appia must have been in the 
days of its glory, when it emerged from Rome on the Cam- 
pagna. It presents the appearance of a long line of tombs, 
on each side of the street. They are of various designs, 



POMPEII. 675 

but are generally elegant marble urns, adapted to contain 
sepulchral vases, which had the ashes of the dead, with 
marble doors, bas reliefs, and Latin inscriptions. This 
street is excavated in its entire length, but the side streets 
are not ; and consequently many of the houses are partly 
covered, and trees and shrubs are growing over them. 
Here one sees the interior life of the Eomans. Here are 
houses and tomb-like houses mingled together in the street. 
There was nothing offensive in the Roman cemeteries ; the 
bodies were burned, (though some families, as the Scipios, 
did not have this custom) the ashes preserved in elegant 
vases, and affection could linger around them without hor- 
ror. The Yilla of Diomede, as it is called, on account of a 
tomb near having that name on it, is on this street. We 
entered it — saw the interior arrangement, the court-yard 
surrounded with columns, the impluvium or cistern to catch 
the rain water, the marble fojimtain near, places for baths, 
hot, cold and vapor, the dining-rooms, bed-chambers, with 
graceful paintings, arabesques, etc. The well in the yard 
was also seen, with the groove in the stone made by the 
rope in drawing water. We saw the secret stairway. Most 
of the houses were of large extent, but had only one or two 
two stories. In this Yilla of Diomede there appears to have 
been three. Entering the cellar, we saw many wine jars 
leaning against the wall. Nineteen skeletons were found 
in the cellars, as if they had sought refuge there. They 
were females, and had a profusion of gold ornaments on 
their necks ; some were children, part of the hair on their 
heads remaining when first discovered; also the skeleton of 
a young girl of great beauty of form. These have been 
removed to the Museum of Naples. The skeleton of the 
presumed owner of the villa was found near the garden 
gate — the key of the villa in his hand, and a purse contain- 
ing one hundred gold pieces. One of the rooms was a 
lady's toilet-chamber, with rouge, cosmetics, and a little 



676 POMPEII. 

mirror. Another room was lighted with four panes of 
glass, six inches square. Continuing our walk along this 
street, we entered several other houses, and saw nu- 
merous tombS; one of which recorded the death of a child 
twelve years old. One could not but be struck with the 
difference between this and a modern grave-yard — nothing 
here about Jesus Christ rising from the dead, or a hope of 
immortality. The age of the world has changed. Some of 
the tombs are called Columbaria, or dove-cotes, consisting 
of numerous places not unlike pigeon-holes, where, in small 
vases, the ashes of a whole family, or, where the slaves 
were numerous, all the ashes of the servants of a family 
might be seen at one glance. The places where the hinges 
of the marble doors had been were very distinctly seen. 
Many of them had fine bas reliefs or pictures cut in the 
marble, some representing gladiatorial shows. We now 
approached the city walls, these tombs and houses being 
outside. Near the wall was found the skeleton of a Eoman 
soldier, in complete armor, who appeared to have been on 
duty at this gate, and, Eoman-like, refused to quit his post, 
notwithstanding the eruption. The walls of the city are 
visible in only some places. They are nearly three miles 
in circuit. The area inclosed by the walls was about one 
hundred and sixty acres. There were eight gates. Within 
the walls the scene of ruin was utterly unparalleled. Here 
were houses, indeed, but no inhabitants. Over some of the 
entrances was written " Salve !" or '^ Welcome !" but the 
entertainer and entertained had alike departed. There were 
fine mosaic pavements, which were covered with gravel. 
This was swept away by some boys at our approach, dis- 
closing various designs in the floor, which they cover again 
on our departure. In this way they exact a few baiocchi 
from each party. A number of female ornaments were 
found in this house. There is an altar here, on which it is 
suppojied the sacred fire was kept burning — this house 



POMPEII. 577 

being called that of the Yestal Virgins. Near this is the 
"House of the Surgeon," where no less than forty surgical in^ 
struments, now in the Museum at Naples, were found, some 
of which are exactly similar to instruments patented of 
late years as new discoveries in science. There is a little 
garden in the interior court of this house. Thus we 
went into very many houses, perhaps forty in all. The 
effect is singular. Any one who has entered a large, and 
to him strange city, in a midnight moonlight, when the in- 
habitants have all retired, and every thing is dead and 
silent, can have some idea of the impressions on the mind 
when wandering through Pompeii. It seems like an im- 
possible reality — a moonlight come out into broad day- 
light — a disrupted century of the past rolled back upon 
■as — a place all human but without humanity : every thing 
is so full of life suddenly left — the paintings on which they 
bad just gazed; the marks on the marble counters of wine 
glaises, just drained. It is a genuine Roman city, that has 
not gone out with Time — embalmed one thousand seven 
hundred and eighty years ago. We now unroll its rags, 
and look at the wonder of a long-lost city. 

Pompeii, as also Herculaneum, from which it is distant 
about six miles, were Greek cities. The Oscans occupied 
•it, the Etruscans also, and the Samnites, and it was eventu- 
ally conquered and annexed to the Roman Empire — the 
Romans being the great fiUibusters of those times. It 
became a commercial place, for which its facilities were 
admirable, being on the sea at that time, and having all 
around it a splendid vine, grain, and olive country. A 
terrific earthquake in the year of our era, 63, threw down 
a great part of the city, deprived many people of their 
reason, and induced many of the inhabitants to abandon the 
city for a time. They returned, however, and began to 
repair the damages, and at the present time one can trace 
the original damages, and the subsequent hasty repairs- 
37 2 Y 



578 POMPEII. 

wHcli they were constructing when the dreadful eruption 
of Vesuvius took place, A. D. 79, when the city was buried 
by showers of red-hot cinders, pumice-stone, and ashes, no 
lava having reached it — this being the same eruption, the 
lava of which destroyed Herculaneum. After this erup- 
tion, Vesuvius was quiet for four hundred years, and it 
appears that the site was, during this period, occupied by 
houses belonging to the lower classes. Another eruption 
occurring at this time, the site was abandoned, and Pompeii 
forgotten, though the upper wall of the great theatre was 
never entirely buried. A countryman, in 1748, digging a 
well, and having discovered a painted chamber containing 
statues and other objects of antiquity, a real interest was 
excited, and since then, a period of one hundred and nine 
years, about a sixth part of the city has been excavated. 
No houses have yet been discovered which can be regarded 
as the dwelling-places of the poor, and it is conjectured that 
want and misery were unknown in Pompeii. The roofs 
^ere flat, and on them, in the inner court, surrounded by 
columns, and embellished with fountains and flowers, and 
in the Forum, the inhabitants appear to have spent much of 
their time, the soft and pleasant climate rendering the open 
air the most desirable place. The fronts of many of the 
houses, next the streets, were occupied as shops — the better 
parts of the houses were those surrounding the inner court, 
or peristyle. In the narrow streets the ruts made by the 
wagon wheels are extremely deep in the hard lava stones of 
which they are all paved ; in the wider streets the ruts cross 
and recross each other in every manner. At various places 
are stepping-stones for foot travelers, to enable them to cross 
the streets in wet weather; and holes are found in some 
places in the curb, supposed to be for fastening the halters of 
horses. It is thought* the greater part of the inhabitants of 
Pompeii escaped. The population was about seventy 
thousand. It is said they were in the Amphitheatre when 



POMPEII. 579 

the eruption took place, and from this could escape to the 
surrounding country, beyond the sphere of the shower 
which overwhelmed the city. Many skeletons, however, 
were found. Sixty-three Koman soldiers, in one place, re- 
fused to desert their post. Many of the skeletons were 
highly ornamented. One young lady had four gold rings 
on her finger, set with engraved gems — had on five gold 
bracelets, two ear-rings, and thirty-two pieces of gold were 
lying near. Three other skeletons, supposed to have been 
her slaves, were near. Another small house had five skele- 
tons in it, with bracelets and rings of gold. In another 
room were eighteen skeletons of men, women, and children, 
and some of dogs. Many of the houses yet bear the names 
of their original owners, written above the door, in red 
paint. In the "House of the Physician," as it is called, were 
found seventy instruments, rolls prepared for cutting pills, 
marble slabs for making the rolls, and others for making 
ointments. In the '^ House of Sallust," we saw splendidly 
painted sleeping apartments — colors very red and bright, 
notwithstanding their burial of near two thousand years. 
The floors was of Greek marble. Most of the fine fresco 
paintings were removed to Naples. One still remaining 
represents the Greek story of Diana and Act^eon. There 
are here to be seen niches in the walls for the Lares, or 
household gods; also a splendid fresco of Bacchus — one of 
the Cornucopia, or horn of plenty. Into the kitchens and 
dining rooms we also entered. There had been found here 
orange trees, small tables, or platforms, for reading ; and in 
the inner court there were borders for flowers and small 
fountains. This street is but little over twelve feet wide — 
the side or foot-walks are about four feet wide, and are ele- 
vated one foot above the street — the paving is of the an- 
cient Eoman kind, consisting of square blocks of lava stone, 
about one foot each way. The houses, like those of modern 
Naples, are not entered by doors, but by arched gateways, 



580 POMPEII. 

leading into the inner court of a quadrangle. This house 
occupies an area of forty square yards. One street which 
we entered is called the " Street of Fortune." We entered 
here the "House of the Tragic Poet," so called from its 
interesting fresco paintings, representing the combats of the 
gladiators ; there are here, also, fine mosaic floors. In this 
street are also large public baths, with waiting-rooms, which 
have seats in them, rooms for anointing, places for steam or 
vapor baths, fountains, marble basins, etc. The roof was 
vaulted and lighted at one end by a single pane of glass, 
three feet eight inches broad, two feet eight inches long, and 
two-fifths of an inch thick. Another street near this is 
fifteen or eighteen feet wide, the raised side-walks six or 
eight feet broad. It was bordered by shops of the first 
class. Over the street was a triumphal arch made of brick 
and lava and lined with marble. We also entered the 
" House of the Large Fountain," with a large fountain 
encrusted with mosaics of different colors ; the water flowed 
through a mask. In the street of Mercury we entered the 
" House of Castor and Pollux," a large house with an interior 
cortile of finely sculptured marble columns. Some of the 
houses have the ancient entrances bricked up, and a door 
made, which has for its keeper a beggar, who unlocks it for 
a small consideration, thus begging wdth a pretext. We 
entered a house called that of Meleager, which has a 
splendid marble table, supported by elegantlj^ carved marble 
figures ; there was a fish pond in the inner court, the water 
of which was so arranged as to fall over eight steps. The 
area of the court was surrounded by twenty-four columns. 
'One door here consisted of four folding leaves. There is 
'here a dancing-room with fine mosaic floor. Then we 
entered the "House of the Great Mosaic," where the mosaic 
representing the Battle of Issus was found. There are here 
floors of variegated marbles, principally of Oriental marble 
and alabaster of different colors. A great number of do- 



POMPEII. 581 

mestic utensils were here found, some of whida were of 
silver; gold bracelets, necklaces, and ear-rings of unusual 
elegance were found. There was here also a large and fine 
garden, surrounded by beautiful columns. Near this is the 
"House of the Chase," in which remains a fine fresco of a 
bear hunt. We also passed through the long street, called 
that of " Commerce," from the number of shops. We saw 
some public bake-houses, where were four flour mills, of 
lava stone, arranged not much unlike a common coffee mill; 
there were wooden bars, to which asses, and sometimes 
slaves, were attached, to turn the mills. Ascending from 
this sepulchre of streets, we stood on the soil over the un ex- 
cavated city. Pompeii stood on a fertile plain, surrounded 
by mountains, except one part open to the sea. Some of 
the mountains have snow on them at present. Vesuvius is 
one of the surrounding mountains, with his ever-smoking 
summit. On the lower parts of the mountains are seen little 
villages and villas, embraced in olive groves. It is about 
six miles, in a straight line, from Pompeii to the top of 
Vesuvius. There is now a fine vineyard on the unexca- 
vated part of the city. There are workmen engaged at 
present in the excavation ; they sift the soil to ascertain if 
any thing valuable is contained. We saw them excavating 
a house, the fluted columns reappearing, and the frescoes on 
the walls bright and vivid after eighteen hundred years 
burial. We now walked some six hundred yards over the 
soil which covers the city, by a path which was beset with 
beggars, and came to the Amphitheatre. It is an immense 
building of stone, oval in form, open at the top ; the seats 
are in sloping tiers around the interior, capable of accom- 
modating twenty thousand spectators. It has many cor- 
ridors, passages, and dens within the basement. The seats 
gradually decline backward from the central arena to the 
highest part of the walls — there being four rows of seats for 
the different classes of the population. The eruption ap- 

2 y2 



582 POMPEII. 

pears to have just covered the space within the walls. The 
enti'ances at each end of the arena, for the admission of the 
gladiators and wild beasts, and for the removal of the dead, 
are jet perfect. This Amphitheatre is more ancient than 
the Coliseum at Rome, though not near so large. The peo- 
ple were assembled here at the outbreak of the eruption. 
Returning to the excavated part of the city, we saw the 
aqueduct through which flows the Sarno, then entered the 
remains of the Temple of Isis, the worship of which Egyp- 
tian god appears to have prevailed at Pompeii. We saw 
the altar of sacrifice, on which, when first discovered, the 
bones of some of the victims were found. We saw the 
secret passages by which the priest ascended and stood in 
the large statue of the god, and made the responses which 
they pretended came from the god. Here was found the 
skeleton of a man with an axe in hand, by which he 
had cut through two walls to escape the eruption, but 
had perished before he could get through the third. In 
another room was found a skeleton, with bones of chickens, 
egg-shells, bread and wine, as if he had just been at dinner 
when the eruption took place. We then entered the Tragic 
Theatre, which it is thought could have seated five thousand 
persons ; the seats had all been lined with Parian marble, 
and admitted the spectators to a fine view of the bay. 
Near this are the Comic Theatre and the Ancient Forum, 
with several stately columns of marble yet standing around 
three of the sides. Near this is the Triangular Forum, 
which has a portico of ninety columns on two of its sides ; 
and then we saw the Temple of Jupiter, an imposing con- 
struction, one hundred feet long and forty-three wide ; also, 
the Temple of Yenus, on a wide street leading to the sea, 
and a Basilica, or Temple of Justice, supposed to be the 
work of Greek architects. It is two hundred and twenty 
feet long and eighty broad. This appears to have been the 
finest part of the city ; the architecture is splendid, and 



POMPEII. 583 

mucli of it in the Greek style. Some of the buildings are 
of Koman brick and lava stone, covered with very fine and 
smooth stucco work, or faced with marble. Not far from 
this were the dungeons where the skeletons of two men 
were found, with iron shackles on their ankles. Having 
gone through many ruined streets, we now descended to the 
railway station. The weather was extremely pleasant and 
suitable for wandering through these gray, grave-like ruins, 
silent and yet eloquent of their past. One could scarcely 
separate himself from the idea of a luxurious, voluptuous 
people, joyous, and with all that this world could give, and 
with no fears of a hereafter, suddenly bereft of all existence 
in the midst of its pleasures. It is said the place is fated, 
and that an impression prevails that when the excavations 
are completed, it will be again destroyed by the mountain. 
No less than seven distinct strata of ashes and pumice-stone 
have been found, one above the other, on the city. There 
is no place that exists in which one can get so forcible an 
impression of the manners and customs of the ancient 
Komans as in this exhumed city. None of the houses had 
any chimneys; the ordinary building materials were Roman 
brick and large lava stones, the latter in front and without 
cement. Thus departed Pompeii in its bustle, pride, and 
pleasure. The moun'tain sent out a huge, unprecedented 
shower of ashes, stones, and volcanic mud, which darkened 
the air for three days, turning day into night, and emitting 
sulphurous and deadly fumes, immediately destructive of 
life. The waves of the sea rose into mountains ; and on the 
third day, when it became light, the plain was strewed with 
the dead, among whom was Pliny, the Roman Philosopher, 
who had been unable to escape. Pompeii, Herculaneum, 
and Stabifie, another overwhelmed city near the former, were 
no more. It was a Sodom and Gom^orrah scene re-enacted. 
But life still goes on here along this lovely coast — gay, but 
not so grand as then. Other cities are here, and the moun- 



584 NAPLES— MUSEO BORBONICO. 

taJD, unextinguislied and unsated, fumes yet up into t"he 
pleasant Italian air. 

To-day, Marcli 4th; we returned to the Museo Borbonico, 
to view the interesting remains brought from Pompeii, 
which we visited yesterday. We saw the singular-looking 
mosaic which lay at the threshold of one of the houses we 
were in yesterday, representing a dog guarding the entrance, 
with the words, "Cave canem!"or, ''Beware of the dog!" 
We saw here very many things brought from Pompeii — 
charred bread, brought from the bake-house, having the 
proprietor's name stamped on it, certainly the oldest loaf of 
bread in the world ; there were also fruits, nuts of various 
kinds, silver ornaments, a sun-dial in the form of a ham to 
hang in the kitchen, a glass lens; also, moulds for pastry, 
forks and spoons of silver, a mirror of silver, drinking-cups 
for the table ; censers for incense found in the Temple of Isis ; 
ornaments of gold, bracelets, a purse found full of money, 
old Roman coins, ear-rings and ornaments found in the 
Yilla of Diomede, marriage-rings, necklaces, all of pure 
gold, some with the name of the owner, one with the name 
of Cornelia engraved — all in the perfection of jewelry work; 
there were glass vases for perfume, gold leaf, etc. There 
were also very fine cameos here of great value and of 
Greek workmanship : one, the largest cameo in the world. 
In another press or secretary were displayed eggs from one 
of the houses, meat vitrified in the process of being cooked 
by steam, onions, jumbles, pomegranates with their flowers, 
olives, roses for oils, instruments for netting like those used 
now, moulds for making small cheeses, skeins of silk, fine 
linen, buttons for mantles, sponges, silk wound on balls, 
mats for the doorways, pots with paints in them, rouge for 
painting faces, linen fire-proof to wrap up the dead, figures 
in ivory, numerous gold rings found on the fingers of skele- 
tons, rings to carry poison in. Then we saw in one room 
beautiful mosaic floors, brought with great care from some 



MUSEO BORBONICO. 585 

of the houses in Pornpeii. The collection of uncut glass is 
verv extensive. There were wine bottles, scent bottles, 
urns containing human bones, window glass, etc. The col- 
lection of terra-cotta, or pottery, is also interesting. There 
are here many household utensils — household gods, ink- 
stands, bird fountains, money bags containing coins. We 
then went into the Hall of the Bronzes, the most ex- 
tensive and interesting collection of the kind in the world. 
These were principally found at Herculaneiim and Pompeii. 
The bronze statue of " Mercury in Repose" is reckoned the 
finest bronze statue in the world. It is admirably true to 
nature. JSTothing is wanting — limbs all perfect. There is 
here a large bronze water-cask, which, after the lapse of 
eighteen centuries, yet contains water hermetically sealed. 
The "Dancing Faun" is also a splendid statue, so thoroughly 
life-like; the ''Sleeping Faun" also; statues of ''Alexander 
the Great," of ''Plato," and many others. Leaving out 
those great exceptions — the printing press, which dissemi- 
nates and multiplies knowledge ; the telegraph, which en- 
ables us to talk across continents and oceans; the steam- 
engine, which gives us wings ; and Christianity, which has 
supplanted the gods of Paganism by a "better hope" — I do 
not see wherein the vaunting modern times have advanced 
except in vanity — architecture and works of art and genius 
seem to have reached perfection before modern times were 
born. In another hall we saw the every-day household 
utensils of the Pompeians. They occupy in all seven halls. 
They are of bronze and silver, and are of exquisite work- 
manship. There are kettles, saucepans, frying-pans, a 
bronze furnace like a modern cooking-stove, several very 
elegant and ingenious candelabra and lamps, steelyards, 
weights and scales, a beautiful bronze tea-urn found in 
Herculaneum, carpenters' tools, planes, instruments of agri- 
culture,, bronze bells for cattle, loaded dice, tickets for the 
theatre, stocks by which persons were confined, skulls and 



686 MUSEO BOEBONICO. 

skeletons found in Pompeii, musical instruments, among 
them the flute. Most of the instruments were found as if 
just in use, indicating how sudden and unexpected the 
catastrophe. 

To-day, March 6th, we returned to the Museum, the 
weather being rainy. We went into the rooms, six in 
number, containing the great collection of sepulchral vases, 
the most extensive in the world. They consist of Grreek 
and Eoman vases, two thousand years old, Etruscan ones 
three thousand years old, and Egyptian ones four thousand 
years old. They are of all shapes, made of burnt clay or 
terra-cotta. They were to hold the ashes of the dead. 
They are painted on the outside with many scenes, historic 
or poetic, illustrative of ancient manners; some highly 
obscene and unsuitable. They consist generally of red 
paintings on a black ground ; or black paintings on a red 
ground. They have been found in tombs all over Italy 
and the countries adjoining. Some were found among the 
ruins of Carthage. One represents a tomb in. the form of 
an Ionic column, which a young princess is embracing with 
great tenderness; another female figure bears a crown; 
on the other side is an aged figure, with white hair and a 
sorrowful countenance. Another represents a tomb em- 
braced by a female figure in a black robe, while a man is 
on the point of stabbing her. Much of ancient Theogony 
and heroic history is shown on these vases." It is probable 
most of these vases contained the ashes of the early Grreeks, 
who founded colonies in this part of Italy. It is said there 
are three thousand three hundred vases and cups, in all, 
in this collection. Many have Grreek inscriptions. Many 
of the vases have three handles. One vase has no less than 
forty -three figures painted on it. I have seen few things 
more interesting than these sepulchral vases. The designs 
on some of them are utterly unknown or conjectural. Some 
of them seem to represent the labors of Hercules, some the 



VESUVIUS. 587 

Amours of various gods. The Greek word " Kalos," or "beau- 
tiful," is on those vases which, in the opinion of the an- 
cients, deserved the public approbation. There are in these 
halls Etruscan tombs showing the position of the bones, 
when the tombs were first opened, where the body was 
buried entire; also the position of the vases when only 
ashes were kept. 

We entered also the great collection of paintings which 
are in about seventeen or eighteen rooms, and consists of 
more than nine hundred paintings. The Neapolitan school 
of painters does not rank so high as some others. There 
are many here of that school, many of the Byzantine school; 
nearly all of the latter being sacred subjects — legends about 
the Virgin, or the saints, or the crucifixion — there being 
but little action in them or variety of expression, but a cer- 
tain peculiar, staring, intense ghostliness of expression, 
showing the superstition of the middle ages. There is a 
celebrated " Holy Family," by Eaphael, showing much of 
his extraordinary power; a fine painting by Demenichino — 
" A Good Genius shielding a Child from evil" — a splen- 
didly executed subject. There is a copy of Michael An- 
gelo's "Last Judgment" in the Sistine Chapel at Eome — 
a grand copy of a great production. One of Titian's cele- 
brated Magdalenes is here—" The Weeping Penitent," re- 
morseful beauty. 

But we are oft' this morning, Saturday, March 7th, for 
Vesuvius. The morning is slightly cloudy after the rain 
of yesterday ; the sun of Naples comes out, however, though 
the winds are somewhat cool. On then through the streets 
of Naples, crowded with creatures in whom intense, ardent, 
vigorous life goes on, mindless of the past and reckless of 
the future. Then along the beech, with the mad waves 
laughing on one side ; on the other, ancient Naples, where 
the Greek colony settled originally nearly three thousand 
years ago. This is the lazzaroni quarter, and the ragged 



588 VESUVIUS. 

wretches beg of you as you pass to "eat maccaroni for you." 
You buy tbe maccaroni for tliem, and tlie way they eat it 
is as curious as it is disgusting. Then over the bridge, 
where the statue of St. Januarius looks so menacingly at 
Vesuvius; then through the long villages of Portici and 
Eesina. At the latter place the ascent to Vesuvius begins. 
Here we are assailed and almost assaulted by guides, who 
want to assist us in ''doing Vesuvius." Having resolved 
beforehand to engage one Cozzalino, we found that every 
one was Cozzalino. At last one rather demure-looking man, 
asserting that he was the real Simon Pure "Cozzalino" who 
attended Baron Humboldt and others of distinction, and 
now wanted to attend us, and who was desirous to prove it. 
We went with Mm to his house, leaving one chivalrous 
gentleman of our party in charge of the ladies. We went 
up steps and ancient lava-built places, and finally came to 
a room, in which was an ancient gentleman, who seemed to 
be a regular feature of Vesuvius. His age was over eighty, 
and he looked as if he and Vesuvius were on the best pos- 
sible terms, and had made a mutual agreement that neither 
was to harm the other. He declared himself to be the great 
Cozzalino, and that his virtues had descended to his son, 
who stood before us. Up Vesuvius he could never go 
again ; and his chief regret, when called on to depart this 
life, would be in leaving it. Their Guide Book was then 
produced, where we found many enthusiastic travelers had 
recorded their virtues, and recommended them. The moun- 
tain is more profitable than if it were a gold mine, as it sup- 
ports the villagers, who act as guides, hire carriages, let out 
mules, etc. Driving through dirty, wet streets, paved with 
lava, and at each side high old houses, we left the town be- 
low ; then we came npon vineyards, peach orchards, the trees 
now in bloom, olives, the cactus, oranges, long high walls 
overgrown with ivy and fern, the walls all of lava, stone 
and cinders. Then the paved way ceased, and our course 



VESUVIUS. 589 

lay over a narrow, rough road: the views of Kaples and 
its lovely bay, white and beautiful, on our left, were splen- 
did; while on our right, and before us, was the rugged, 
earthquake-maker and city-destroyer, Vesuvius. The vine- 
yards through which we passed produce the fine wine 
known as " Lachrimae Christi," or '' Tears of Christ." The 
soil appears to be of great fertility. Further up, upon our 
left, we came upon great fields and acres of lava of many 
asres and colors. We crossed the lava of A. D. 1770. The 
walls on each side of the road were made of it ; and during 
the course of the last few years pale, moss-like flowers, had 
grown over it — the first attempt of Nature to civilize it, and 
eventually convert it into arable soil. On some cleared 
portions there were fig orchards, near which were vineyard 
villas. Higher up all cultivation nearly ceased, and the 
products of the fifty-six eruptions of Yesuvius, during the 
seventeen hundred and eighty years it has been an active 
volcano, were strewn around us in scorched savageness. 
The road in some places is very smooth and in good order, 
winding around in order to avoid too steep an ascent. On 
our right the guide showed us the lava of the eruption of 
1829, in a deep hollow; and our road then passed over 
ashes which the guide said were deposited at the period of 
the eruption of A. D. 79, which overwhelmed Herculaneum 
and Pompeii, and which was the first eruption of Vesuvius 
within historical periods, though evidences exist that it had 
been an active volcano one thousand years previous. During 
the long period of its quiescence it had become garmented 
with vines to its extreme summit. There were numerous 
artificial caves in the rocks and lava along the road-side, 
which the guide asserted were for the convenience of 
laborers in the vineyards below in rainy weather. We 
then passed near the lava of 1631, and that of two years 
ago — the latter looking black, like a dried river of cinders. 
It took, as the guide said, a "bad direction," having moved 

2z 



590 VESUVIUS. 

toward Naples. Immense fields of the lava of 1822 and 
1839 were now seen on the right, slightly covered with pale 
gray moss. On the portions spared by the lava, however, 
could be seen, small terraces, with mulberry trees and vines, 
or small patches of wheat. The view of the bay, as we as- 
cended, opened far out into the Mediterranean, embracing 
Capri, and the white waves laughed as they leaped on the 
beach of Naples, and further on our left extended the 
"happy Campagna." Ascending higher, we came to the 
" Hermitage" — a church and convent — built many years 
ago on a ridge projecting from Vesuvius. Here we leave 
the carriages, the ascent to the base of the cone having to be 
performed on foot or on mules. The guide here showed us 
the long ridges of lava, the eruption of three years ago ex- 
tending two miles down the mountain. It is black in color, 
and on it, at various places, collects or exudes a peculiar 
sulphurous substance. It is seen in a deep hollow at the 
left of the " Hermitage." We walked into the old church, 
built here amidst the lava, and right in the road up Vesu- 
vius. We also purchased refreshments from the priests; 
and, like others who were making the ascent, immortalized 
our names in the travelers' book. From this we walked 
some distance, passing over the lava of 1834, and afterward 
over that of two months ago, the eruption accompanying 
the earthquake of last December. We saw where there had 
been great currents, or rivers, and even cataracts of lava. 
There were irregular hardened rocks of former fluidity, 
looking like a suddenly frozen sea, when the mad storm 
had collected it into surges and heaps. Some of its black 
mass looked like drapery blown about by the wind. We 
now entered a cloud of mist, and walked over portions of 
the lava of 1820, the lava of 1884 being on our left, like a 
black glacier. Naples now appeared far below us, its 
double bay looking like the upper part of a heart. We 
could see it in a patch of sunlight, through a cleft cloud — 



VESUVIUS. 591 

the island of Capri in front, those of Ischia and Procida on 
the right. The lava over which we walked showed all 
kinds of colors. There were immense openings in the shell 
or crust of the lava. Vast spectral clouds floated all around 
"US, revealing glimpses of a mountain on our left, on which 
lay some snow. This is Monte Somma, and we were now 
in the Atrio del Cavallo, a narrow valley or passage be- 
tween it and Vesuvius, which was formed at the era of the 
destruction of Pompeii, being the same whence probably 
was obtained the vast quantity of ejected matter which 
overwhelmed the cities. We now saw immense rocks, 
which had been thrown out of the mountain — some large 
enough to crush a cathedral. Passing over a gentle ascent, 
composed of gravel, we at length reached the base of the 
cone of Vesuvius. A scene of utter savageness was around 
us — not the savageness of vast glaciers, but that of cinders 
and lava. The cone of Vesuvius rose above us, an ascent 
exceedingly steep, in some places certainly sixty degrees 
from the horizontal, and adown its course we could see the 
scorched, and scarred, and blasted-looking rivers of con- 
gealed lava ; and at some places on the side could be seen 
former craters, now relapsed into inactivity ; and deep in 
the mountain could be heard the roaring of subterranean 
fires, while from the summit came down directly on us a 
tempest of sulphureous smoke and mist. Here the real 
labor began. Several parties were met descending, being 
deterred from making the ascent by the inclemency of the 
weather. Our party, however, had no "back out" in them, 
and accordingly we entered the dark cloud, enveloping 
Vesuvius like a shroud, and began to toil up the lava rocks 
and cinders, piled as steeply as they could lay. Two of our 
party employed each a portantina, that is, a chair carried 
by four porters, to carry them up to the summit. The 
guardian angel of the party, as it proved afterward, little 
Florence, was carried on the shoulders of one of the stalwart 



592 VESUVIUS. 

JSTeapolitan guides. Besides our party there were some half 
a dozen or more lazzaroni, who persisted in following us. 
Some carried baskets of provisions, wine, oranges, bread, 
offering to sell us ; others, eggs, which they were to I'oast 
for us on the edges of the crater; others offered all kinds 
of miscellaneous service, such as assisting us from behind 
or pulling us before by means of ropes or handkerchiefs 
they held in their hands — all offering, proffering and beset- 
ting us with service — not gratis, however, the price being 
always, in every case, as much as they could extract from 
our necessities or generosity. The ascent was over large 
and small masses of black lava stone, which moved under 
our feet at every step, rendering the walking very difficult, 
besides the additional inconvenience of being involved in 
the sulphureous smoke of Vesuvius, and the mist which 
concealed every thing at a distance, and frequently rendered 
the various members of the party invisible to each other. 
Ascending for at least an hour, in this manner, we came 
near the top, after efforts that would have been considered 
hard work in any country. The sulphureous gas now 
increased to such a degree as to render breathing difficult, 
and our exertions in climbing obliged us to inhale large 
quantities of it; pains were felt in the chest; one or two of 
the party became insensible for a moment, but revived on 
the application of some snow, which was fortunately found 
in a crevice near, to the forehead. The scene began to 
assume the form of the recklessly dangerous. A storm 
of wind and hail came down upon us, which at times parted 
the smoke and mist in such a manner as to reveal spectral 
glimpses of Naples, far below, and also of Monte Somma, 
on the opposite side of the deep valley. We approached 
death, however, as if we were working for life; and at 
length fainting, exhausted and half suffocated, stood on the 
very summit of Vesuvius, and were within a few minutes' 
walk of the' crater, which boiled over with smoke. We 



VESUVIUS. 593 

presented a disconsolate sight, however. A second time a 
kind of fainting or insensibility seized some of the party. 
The darkness around, occasioned by the dense smoke and 
mist, increased to such a degree that no one could see 
another at a foot's distance, while the sulphurous gas was 
so strong that each one was obliged to hold a handkerchief 
to his mouth to prevent breathing it and escape suffocation. 
It then appeared fortunate that the lazzaroni had so perse- 
veringly followed us. Their oranges were seized, their 
wine drank, without the ceremony of a bargain as to the 
price. The lazzaroni could have robbed us all, and left us 
as victims sacrificed to temerity in invading the outraged 
majesty of Yesuvius, when not in a placid humor, with in* 
finite ease; but in this, our extremity, they did nothing but 
clamor about their pay. Yesuvius was fairly " smoking us 
out." Our proximity to the crater was indicated by one of 
the guides roasting his eggs on a rock of lava. The rocks 
we stood on were hot. Nothing was visible but the vol- 
cano, portions of which, on the summit, are liable at any 
time to fall in. Some, however, having for a moment 
recovered sensibility, though not sense — we allude to our- 
selves — proposed advancing to the jaws of the crater; others 
proposed descending. The cry of our little friend Flora, 
who had borne the fatigue like a heroine, decided us in a 
moment; and as nothing was visible but darkness, and it 
was madness to proceed, we began the descent; the guides, 
who were anxious to do so, acceded with tremendous 
alacrity — Yesuvius having become ''too hot to hold us." 
Our descent was fearfully ludicrous. With the strong arm 
of a guide assisting the weaker ones, we began to slide down 
the steep mountain at a different place from that by which 
we ascended, and where we sunk at almost every step 
"several feet" down deep into the ashes. Between sinking 
down, rising up, and the accelerated motion down such a 
declivity, our motions were not the most graceful. Slipping, 
38 2 z 2 



694 VESUVIUS. 

sliding, shuffling, running, falling — all combinations that 
gravitation and will could produce, operated upon us. 
Vesuvius builds itself up by the lava and ashes ejected 
from the crater ; consequently it is as steep as it is possible 
for detached rocks to lay. These lie outside of the crust, in- 
side of which may be heard the hollow rumbling and roar- 
ing of the restless fires. We passed several ancient mouths 
of the mountain, out of which, at various eras, lava had 
been ejected ; and at length, very glad, indeed, we emerged 
from the dark cloud enveloping the cone, and breathed a 
fresher and better air. A gradual descent now led us over 
various fields of lava, of ancient and more recent years, 
where we had leisure to examine the strange appearances — 
the white sulphur exuding from it, the various forms it as- 
sumes in cooling, the direction the streams of lava had 
taken. Descending, we reached the Observatory above the 
"Hermitage," on a ridge two thousand and eighty feet high. 
We then came to the '' Hermitage," where we had ordered 
our carriages to wait for us. We thought ourselves deserv- 
ing of some refreshment after our exertions. The wine, 
"Lacrim^ Christi," grown on the vineyards of Yesuvius, 
assisted to restore us, and we reached Naples at six o'clock, 
glad and thankful that we had escaped, and firmly resolved 
never to undertake to "do Yesuvius" in bad weather lest 
we should be "done for." But at the fine table dliote 
of the '' Hotel de Bussie^^'' discussing '^pdtih foie de gros" we 
found it not a little pleasant to recur to the scenes of the 
day, especially our discomfited, disconsolate appearance on 
the summit of Yesuvius, half-suffocated and senseless. The 
height of Yesuvius above the sea is about four thousand 
feet. It has been in activity for eighteen hundred years ; 
but previous to that time it appears to have been dormant 
for one thousand years. Yines had grown all over it ; and 
on Monte Somma, then near the summit of the cone, was a 
Temple of Jupiter. Traces of the ancient eruptions of lava 



EXCURSION. 595 

yet exist. The lava, in running down the mountain, pro- 
ceeds at first very rapidly; then, as it is cooling, very 
slowly. Persons can roast eggs on it, or encrust pieces of 
coin in it and break them off. Previous to an eruption the 
water in all the wells and springs around Naples diminishes. 
Sometimes mouths open along the sides of the mountain: 
fifteen have been counted at one time discharging smoke 
and lava, the noise being terrific, and the ground heaving 
around them for some distance. The smoke arising from 
the mouths is highly electric, and discharges constantly 
livid flashes of lightning. Sometimes the lava, advancing 
near Torre del Grreco, one of the towns at the base of the 
mountain, rushes into the sea in a stream of burning matter 
from twelve to forty feet in thickness. The sea was in a 
boiling state at the distance of one hundred yards from the 
shore. Sometimes a stupendous column of fire rises from 
the mountain, twelve thousand feet high, illuminating the 
whole country around at night for ten miles distant. The 
ashes of some of the eruptions fall one hundred miles off — 
a space they have traversed in two hours. Sometimes the 
burning stream of liquid lava is six miles long, two broad, 
and seventy feet deep. From 1510 to 1631, Vesuvius was 
altogether silent, and the sides of the crater were overgrown 
with brushwood, and became the resort of wild boars. 
During this period, however, ^tna was in a state of extra- 
ordinary activity. When an eruption is threatened, the 
relics of St. Januarius are carried in procession about in 
Naples. That Naples, with her four hundred and twenty 
thousand inhabitants, is in great danger at all times, either 
from earthquakes, or showers of ashes such as destroyed 
Pompeii, there can be no doubt, but it is hardly possible, 
from her position, that a stream of lava could reach the city 
in any ordinary circumstances. 

This morning, March 9th, which has all the accompani- 
ments of sunshine, blue air, and brightness generally, we 



596 EXCURSION 

are off on an excursion, west of Naples. The waves dash 
upon the shore on our left, as we pass along the crowded 
Streets. We approach the Grotto of Pasilipo, an ancient 
tunnel, excavated in the old volcanic rock. On our left is 
seen, on high, the Tomb of Yirgil, old and ivy-grown. The 
grotto is twenty-two hundred and forty-four feet long. It 
is lighted with lamps night and day, and has two circular air- 
shafts for ventilating it. It is as old as Nero, and is paved 
throughout, the main road passing through it. In one place 
is a chapel of the Yirgin, before which lamps are burning. 
The route over which we passed is one of the most classic 
regions in Italy. 

After passing the grotto, we came upon fruitful plains of 
wheat fields, vine-clad hills, then entered deep cuts through 
high hills, with ivy and ruins upon them. The names of 
the towns and places along this route are said to indicate a 
: Phoenician settlement of this coast, anterior to Greek occu- 
pation. It is here the demonology of Homer was enacted, 
and through this region Yirgil makes ^neas explore the 
eternal secrets of the spirit lands. Here are the craters of 
many extinct volcanoes, and here are lost cities underneath 
lava. We came to a dark-looking lake, about three miles 
cin circuit — that of Agnano. It is the crater of an extinct 
volcano ; gas always bubbles from it, and a horrid sulphur- 
pus smell and malaria rise from it, though there are many 
water birds upon it. Near it we entered a singular grotto, 
called that of San Gremano. We passed through several 
chambers in it, the heated air and the sulphurous gas ex- 
haling through the seams in the floor and the sides of the 
caves. The hot, sulphurous vapor is one hundred and 
eighty degrees of Fahrenheit in temperature. On the other 
side of the road is the celebrated Grotto del Cane, or of the 
dog. A stratum of carbonic gas, about a foot high, lies on 
the floor of this cave. These two caves were kept by an old 
woman, the ne plus ultra of ugly cruelty. The little dog 



EXCURSION. 597 

that makes a living for himself and her by dying, came 
running briskly along. She seized it — it manifested great 
reluctance to die. She unlocked the door of the grotto, 
held the poor animal down in the gaseous portion ; at first 
it struggled, but in a minute or two appeared really to die-^ 
the air being unable to support animal life. Afterward, she 
brought it out into the open air, when it revived, ran about, 
and seemed, upon the whole, well satisfied to live and die 
daily, to illustrate the properties of carbonic acid gas. 
Torches were extinguished when first lit, and then immersed 
in it. We walked about in the cave, however, the upper 
part being free from the noxious air, which exhales from 
the sides and falls down to the bottom. Prisoners have 
been executed by being shut up here and left to die by suf- 
focation. Our route was now toward Pozzuoli, Vesuvius 
appearing behind us in the blue air — one white, conical 
cloud piled up, sitting on its summit, sun-gilt and grand. 
Much of our road was in a deep cut, with vineyards on the 
slopes, avenues of ornamental trees, castles and villas on the 
high points, and God's sunshine over all. The road itself 
was superb. Then we came to the sea again, to Bagnuoli, a 
bathing place on the Bay of Baias, with a rocky island be- 
fore it. Our way lay along the sea- waves for some distance 
— three tiers of melodious waves swelling in from a tranquil 
sea, constantly. In one place the road cuts through a 
mountain of lava, ejected by an extinct volcano near, the 
lava of which is said to have entered the sea, with a front 
a quarter of a mile long and seventy feet deep. We soon 
came to Pozzuoli, or Puteoli, where St. Paul landed, on his 
way to Rome, and " found brethren with whom he tarried 
seven days." There has been a town here for nearly twenty- 
eight hundred years. In the Roman times it was an exten- 
sive place, and it is still the most lovely region on earth. 
The number of inhabitants is about eight thousand — a more 
beggarly set of beings we never saw. The carriages were 



698 EXCURSION. 

surrounded with them, with horrid countenances. Some 
had cultivated a leering, knowing smile of utter misery — 
stood and looked at you mutely, with dirty faces, unshaven 
beards, hair never combed, and a general disposition to be 
hideous. Misery and utter ugliness are here profitable. 
From Pozzuoli we again passed through vineyards, gardens, 
and fig orchards. Leaving our carriages on the hill above 
Pozzuoli, we ascended by an ancient, paved, Eoman way, 
to an eminence from which extends a view of inexpressible 
loveliness of sea, volcanic regions, and classic shores. From 
this we descended to the crater of Solfatara. It is a large 
crater of a semi-extinct volcano, like a saucer in shape, 
being surrounded by high hills. We walked through it. 
At one side issues a volume of white vapor, like a cloud of 
mist. The noise is similar to that of a steam-engine. There 
is a Saltpetre manufactory in the crater. A hollow sound is 
given forth when a rock is thrown down on the ground. It 
is not a desirable locality. When Vesuvius is quiet for a long 
time, this crater begins to show symptoms of agitation, as if 
preparing itself for an eruption. When Vesuvius is active, 
this is dormant. It poured forth a tremendous eruption, 
A. D. 1198. Trees are now growing in and around the 
crater. In and around Pozzuoli are many ruins; nothing is 
sadder than these scenes. We entered the ruin of the Amphi- 
theatre. In form, it is not much unlike the Coliseum, but 
it is an over-grown ruin. There were triple rows of 
arcaded porticoes covered with marble. The building was 
composed of three rows of arches. The legend runs that 
St. Januarius was, in the reign of Diocletian, exposed to 
wild beasts here, which would not devour him. There is 
now a chapel in that part where he was confined. He was 
beheaded on a hill near this, the stone on which he suffered 
being shown in his chapel. Passing along roads of ruins, 
nameless and grand, in the tombs of which sepulchral vases 
and elegant mosaic floors have been found, the Roman 



EXCURSION. 599 

paving peers out from the roadside, and you see on tlie lava 
blocks the indentations of ancient carriage wheels. The 
deities of the mighty Roman empire are here scattered 
around in mournful profusion. After this we came to ruins 
of temples, then to a church of the middle ages, in the 
Lombard style, rather singular-looking, as that style is not 
common in this part of Italy, then to the ruins of a villa 
of Cicero, on a projection toward the sea, the view from 
which is described with rapture by Cicero himself. All 
things have conspired against this lovely region. Time has 
called to his help the subterraneous fires beneath — they 
have burnt it. The sea has encroached on the shore, and 
there are temples under water, with just the upper portions 
of the columns visible. We now came to a most majestic 
ruin, among the most remarkable in the world — the Temple 
of Serapis — with its marble floor underneath the sea water. 
Its splendid columns of costly marbles stand in circles 
around the various departments — some of them eaten into 
by the salt sea waves. Here the worship of Egyptian gods 
was carried on. The ground on which the temple stands is 
now sinking into the sea. In former ages it was much 
higher than at present. An ancient pavement of mosaic 
work, with channels for carrying off redundant water to the 
sea, has been discovered, six feet below the present one, 
which is below the level of the sea. The sea wants to 
swallow this beautiful ruin. But in former years there was 
an upheaval of the soil, as is proved by appearances on the 
columns. There have been local elevations and depressions, 
alternately, of either the land or the sea, since this temple 
has been standing. The lava from the adjacent volcano of 
Solfatara ran over the court of the temple, and filled it to 
the depth of twelve feet. The temple continued to sink till 
nine feet of the columns were submerged, and they re- 
mained subject to the action of the water for three centuries 
and a half. There are numerous perforations in the 



600 EXCUKSION. 

columns^ made by sea-water animals. TKen an elevation 
of the soil began, continuing for three hundred years, since 
which the sinking has begun again. It is calculated the 
subsidence is at the rate of an inch a year. The site of this 
noble ruin was, about two hundred and seventy-five years 
ago, overgrown with trees and brushwood, when the upper 
part of three marble columns was seen projecting above the 
soil. Orders were then given by the King of Naples that 
the whole should be disinterred. There were forty -eight 
columns — some of marble, some of granite ; beneath them 
were thirty-two small chambers. Some of the columns are 
still extant, and are of one piece of marble, and are forty 
feet high. There are some vases with small spiral flutings, 
supposed to be for holding the blood of the victims. From 
this we drove along a beach now level and covered with 
vineyards, but over which, anciently, the sea rolled, the 
ground here having risen. We saw the ancient beach, with 
its ruins of baths, tombs, and its caves. As the ground is 
sinking again, it is calculated it will, in process of time, 
wash the ancient shores. Ascending, we came to Monte 
Nuovo, or the '^New Mountain," heaved up in an eruption 
of the now extinct volcano Solfatara, in 1538. This new 
mountain has in its bosom an extinct crater, four hundred 
and nineteen feet deep, almost as deep as it is high. At 
this time, this whole coast is described as having been also 
raised, so that the sea retired two hundred feet. The moun- 
tain, or hill, is in shape what is called a truncated cone. It 
is a mile and a half around. Passing on further, we came 
to the Lake Avernus, in a circular basin, one and-a-half 
miles around, and partially embosomed in hills clothed with 
chestnut trees and vines. It looks extremely like a volcanic 
crater. Here Homer and Yirgil place the entrance to hell, 
and in these sunless retreats the Cimmerians dwelt. The 
oracles of the infernal deities were here pronounced. We 
saw the ruins of the Sybil's Cave, into which Yirgil makes 



EXCUKSION. 601 

^neas pass, to consult the infernal deities ; also, the ruins 
of the Temple of Apollo, on the opposite shore of the lake. 
Beyond this lake is seen the sea. Proceeding on our route, 
we passed over portions of the Phlegraeon, or Fire Fields of 
the ancients ; there were ruins of Eoman tombs on each. 
We then came to an ancient arch of solid and majestic 
Roman construction — the Arco Felice. The walls and 
aqueduct, which latter once passed over the arch, have all 
disappeared. The arch is mainly of brick, and is sixty feet 
high. We then came upon the ancient Roman pavement, 
similar to that of the Appian Way. The hills around 
were all picturesque, irregular, volcanic, with pines, vines, 
romantic towns, old and ruined, stone modern villas, holes 
in the hills, old tombs, Roman reticulated work, peering 
through ivy and earth. We were now within the limits of 
the ancient city of Cumae, reckoned by some the most 
ancient of all the Italian Greek cities. It extended over a 
vast space around, now vacant, excepting ruins and tombs^ 
half-earthed walls of ancient masonry. Many of the inter- 
esting objects, sepulchral vases, etc., of the Museum ait 
Naples, v/ere dug out of this ancient city, once filled with 
wealth and wickedness. It was the seat of the primitive 
Italian civilization — all essentially gone now. The Romans 
conquered it, after which it declined rapidly, and was called 
the " Vacant Cumae." It afterward became a nest for 
pirates and robbers of the thirteenth century, when the sur- 
rounding inhabitants razed what remained of the ancient 
city to the ground. The situation, however, is lovely, 
despite the desolation. It is supposed to have stood once on 
the sea, but the local changes of this volcanic region have 
removed it inland. We walked about the Amphitheatre, 
now covered almost with earth and trees. It is an oval 
building, with twenty-one rows of seats leading down to the 
arena. There are confused and scattered ruins of temples, 
where Egyptian colossal statues of divinities were found 

3 a 



602 EXCUKSION. 

then the Necropolis, with tiers of tombs above each other, 
the whole a miserable-looking scene. Some of the skele- 
tons found here were embroidered with cloth of gold, 
asbestos, necklaces of gold beads. We now came to the 
Lake Yusaro, looking also like an extinct volcano. There 
are picturesque-looking hills all around it, ruins of Eoman 
work, arches, terraces, walls of baths now covered with 
vines, fig trees, the cactus — all desolate, old, and sad — on. 
which the earthquake, time, battle, volcano, have warred 
relentlessly. The lake is now famous for its oysters; it 
communicates with the sea. We saw the remains of a 
canal, constructed by Nero, now underground, peering out 
from the roadside. There were Patrician villas all around 
here in old ages. We passed over the region known to the 
ancients as the Elysian Fields. Cicero, Seneca, and others 
had villas' here. Our road then passed along the sea, and 
we came to the lovely Bay of Baiaa, the seat of the dissipa- 
tion and follies of the Eomans, the entrepot of all the vices 
of the emperors and of opulent persons in Rome. It is 
only recognizable now by sumptuous ruins. There is an 
enormous quantity of ruins all around here. The earth, 
the hills, and the mountains cannot contain them — they 
appear under water in the sea. Sylla died here, and Nero 
attempted to murder his mother, by causing her to embark 
in a leaky vessel ; and Josephus relates that here Herod, 
accompanied by the charming Herodias, met Caligula, to 
ask the crown of Judea. Crassus, Cato, Pompey, and Julius 
Caesar had villas here. The masters of the world, when 
sated with ambition, retired here to indulge their passions. 
We entered the ruins of the temples of Mercury and Yenus, 
vaulted buildings overgrown with weeds and ivy, and 
stripped of their marbles and their pillars, and wretched, 
sad, and suggestive beyond description. There were curious 
echoes in some of them. While we were in one, a group 
of Italian peasant girls came in. They had a kind of tarn- 



EXCURSION. 603 

borine, and some were clad in strange costumes. They 
began an old Greek dance, and the ancient Temple of Yenus 
resounded with mirth and music, as a pretext for begging. 
The bay is nearly surrounded by hills, on which are temples 
of great size, fallen or'covered with trees ; there are grottos, 
baths, orange and lemon groves, horrid beggars, flowers 
^among and over the ruins. These are on every spot of 
ground and in the sea. It is vain to ask whose villa is this, 
and this, and this. The Eoman Empire has been dead and 
voiceless for a thousand years, but earth is scarcely exten- 
sive enough to bury it. This is the empire of the tombs. 
We then entered the miserable village of Bocoli ; after 
which to the Lago Monte, or " Dead Lake," a volcanic lake, 
on our right, and on our left long rows of ruined Koman 
tombs. We came to the place where we saw, in a kind of 
museum, a vast number of small and large sepulchral vases, 
taken from the various cemeteries around; there were 
broken busts and inglorious mementoes of ancient ruins. 
Next we entered a most singular department, a grove of old 
columns of Eoman brick-work, which supported a reservoir 
of water to supply the Roman fleet which was stationed in 
this harbor. It seems as solid as it was eighteen centuries 
ago. Next we entered the hundred chambers of Nero, a 
most extensive building underground, sometimes called the 
" Prisons of Nero." We went through long, subterranean 
corridors, narrow and dark, and only capable of admitting 
one person at a time. The passages are very intricate. 
We had a guide, with torches, to show us the way. The 
views from some of these melancholy ruins, over the blue 
Mediterranean, are extremely beautiful. There are flowers 
everywhere around, though the very spirit of destruction 
seems to have sat here for a thousand years. Hadrian and 
Tiberius both died here. The mineral water's healthful- 
ness, and the beauty of the coast, were unsurpassed. Leav- 
ing this, we rode along the Bay of Baise, the waves on our 



604 MUSEO BOEBONICO. 

right beating over ruins. Traces of the villa of Julius 
Ca3sar were on our left; Koman baths were along the 
water's edge. The stone has decayed, but the carved work 
remains. The villa of Marius, the fierce Eoman, was here,' 
and that of Cornelia; the mother of the Grracchi. Further 
on, alongside of a steep tufa or volcanic rock, projecting 
toward the sea, we came upon what are called the " Baths ^ 
of Nero." There are numerous chambers in the tufa rock, 
passing in all directions, and descending to a lake of hot 
water. We passed into some of them, being obliged to 
stoop, as the heated air and vapor occupied the upper part 
of the narrow passages. We soon returned, however, not 
caring to penetrate dark and smoking passages, filled with 
suftbcating gas, and leading into hot, volcanic rocks. The 
guide, however, who showed the place as a kind of pecu-. 
liurn, taking a bucket and some eggs in it, descended into 
the narrow, dark, and smoking corridors, and in a few 
minutes reappeared, puffing, exhausted, and in a profuse 
perspiration, like a foul spirit out of the darkness, having 
descended to the dark, hot lake, and filled the bucket with 
water, which had thoroughly cooked the eggs, as some of 
our party proved, by eating them. Heated air and vapor 
issue from all the passages, and they were celebrated in the 
Roman times for the cure of diseases. Next we passed 
along the narrow road between Lake Lucrina and the sea. 
Priests and beggars met us, the former in long gowns, the 
latter in an appalling accumulation of curious raggedness, 
beo'ffino: because it is their nature. Some content them- 
selves with a private, prolonged howl, never looking up or 
turning around, or asking for any thing. We then returned 
to Naples, arriving at five in the evening. We employed a 
general guide, who took us to each place, which had also its 
own local custode, all requiring a fee. The scenes we had 
been over are the most classic in the world. It is now the 
charnel house of a past Paradise. 



PAPYRUS. 605 

To-day, Wednesday, March lOth, our reduced party, con- 
sisting now of but two, revisit the Museo Borbonico for the 
last time. Yesterday was a day of parting with some 
pleasant traveling friends, some of whom departed for North 
Italy, others to Marseilles. Little Flora, too, is gone! 
These friendships that originate among travelers, by con- 
- genial pursuits and attractions, are often extremely pleasant, 
and parting is painful. As we wander through the vast 
halls of this Museum, where every thing is associated with 
those who have gone, and where we can almost hear their 
words in the air, we feel the truth of the latter remark. We 
have walked again into the gallery of paintings. It js not 
so grand as those of Eome, Florence, or Dresden. Yet there 
is a pleasantness in the contemplation of these works of art. 
A cartoon of Moses, by Eaphael, struck me as wonderful 
in its expression of majestic sadness. We walked through 
many of the rooms again. It is a disadvantage in this 
Museum that the fees are so numerous — each room has a 
custode, who expects several carlini. It is very impressive 
to stroll through the rooms containing collections of the 
household utensils of the Pompeiians — vases, lamps, baths 
— all as the Pompeiians left them — and the lava-burnt 
bronze plates, armor, inkstands with remains of ink in 
them, bread with the baker's name on it, charred hair, 
purses of gold left in haste, etc. The gallery of the 
Papyrus is very interesting. In some of the rooms in 
Herculaneum were found what appeared to be pieces of 
charcoal ; Greek letters were found on them, and it was dis- 
covered to have been a library. Then workmen, who were 
necessarily men of science and antiquarians, were employed 
to unroll and decipher them. Several ancient and pre- 
viously unknown works have been thus recovered. A 
work of Philodemus, on the Virtues and Vices, has been 
thus restored. The black-looking sticks, constituting the 
rolls, are unrolled very carefully by means of a small 

3 a2 



606 MUSEO BOKBONICO. 

macliine and certain oils or chemicals. As in most cases 
parts of the pages are burnt and undecipherable, it requires 
much learning and some conjecture to restore and read the 
lost parts, supplying the unknown from the known. The 
unrolled parts are spread out, and look like blackened 
shreds, and one looks at them for some time before he 
recognizes a Grreek letter. Their unfortunate resemblance 
to carbon, or charcoal, caused many of these rolls to be 
destroyed before their design was understood. The rolls 
are so torrefied and friable that one cannot touch them but 
with extreme caution. The machine to unroll them was 
inveqted by a ITeapolitan. It is said twenty-four of the 
rolls were sent into France and England, and nobody was 
there found who could decipher one word. The rolls of 
Papyrus are about five hundred, and some fifteen or twenty 
works of the ancients have been recovered. No work of 
much historic value has, however, been recovered. I saw 
a printed copy, exhibiting the writing on the unrolled 
Papyrus in a parallel column— the whole page in Greek as 
coDJecturally restored, and alongside a Latin translation. 
In the ground floor of the Museum we saw the epigraphic, 
or inscription collection, consisting of fifteen hundred and 
eighty inscriptions on marble, distributed into eight classes. 
Some are Arabic, Greek, Oscan, and Garthagenian, and 
many early Christian and sepulchral. The celebrated work 
of the highest Greek art, the Toro Farnese, is here. It is a 
most wonderful group, though many of the figures have 
undergone modern restorations. It represents the revenge 
of the two sons of a Theban king, on Dirce, who had 
seduced the affections of the king from their mother ; they 
tied her to the horns of an outraged and angry bull, but by 
the persuasions of their own mother released her. It was 
found in the baths of Caracalla, at Rome. The great statue 
of the Farnese Hercules is also here. It was highly cele- 
brated in antiquity. It was also found in the baths of 



EXCURSION TO P^STUM. 607 

Caracalla. It is a most remarkable statue. Hercules is 
represented in repose, as leaning on his club ; an expression 
of fatigue is on his countenance. The size is colossal ; the 
muscles are all firmly pronounced ; the hardness of the 
style, the truth to the scietfce of Anatomy, the regularity 
of the outlines and the firmness of the body are remarkable. 
There is here, also, an antique almanac, in marble ; and the 
inscriptions on tombs might detain one for many a day. 

But this pleasant afternoon we are off in the railway, to 
visit P^stum, going by railway to Cava, thence by omnibus 
to Salerno, where we sleep to-night ; thence by carriage to 
Psestum to-morrow, returning to Naples in the evening. 
The railway is the same as that to Pompeii — the ruined, 
gray, roofless houses and temples of which we saw in pass- 
ing — the great sea on one side, on the other Vesuvius, with 
its cataract of ever-ascending smoke. The various strata 
of alternate lava and fertile soil were seen. Then we 
entered a fertile vale, cultivated and rich as a garden, 
part of the plain of old Pompeii ; the ground had reservoirs 
of water in many places, from which pipes descended in 
numerous passages along the beds, to irrigate them. There 
were also avenues of poplars and mulberries, cropped of 
their tops, on which vines were festooned. We passed 
through several ancient, miserable-looking towns, over 
plains famous in battles of old ; the fertile vale ceased, and 
we were among the high mountains, south of Naples. One 
town is called Pagani, or the Pagan, supposed because its 
inhabitants adhered for many ages to the rites of Paganism. 
The railway appeared to be wondering at itself for getting 
into such old, out-of-the-way places. The ruined towers on 
the hills began to be of the Gothic and Lombard archi- 
tecture of the middle ages. There were on many of the 
the hills singular towers, used to ensnare .birds. These con- 
ceal persons, who, on the approach of a flock of birds, 
throw small, white stones toward such parts of the field as 



608 ^ SALERNO. 

have nets on them — the birds follow the supposed bait, and 
are taken. The railway terminated at Cava, an old town, 
consisting of one long street, the houses of which are on 
gloomy arcades, not unlike those of Berne. There is a 
monastery here on the mountaih near, having extraordinary 
treasures of historical archives, relative to the Popes and 
the middle ages. It also contains the manuscript Latin 
Yulgate of the Scriptures, after the text of St. Jerome. It 
is as old as the seventh century, and probably older. It 
contains the verses in the first Epistle of John, relative to 
the " three heavenly witnesses." It is said these verses do 
not appear in any Greek manuscripts down to the sixteenth 
century, and are in two only of the one hundred and fifty- 
one Greek manuscripts known to exist. As it may have 
been omitted from these bv the Arians, this ancient version 
is of high authority. There are here some of the earliest 
printed works, in Gothic type, four hundred years old. 
Here we got into an omnibus, and descending a long hill, 
through scenery of extreme beauty, we reached Salerno, on 
the seaside, where we found a good hotel (the Yittoria)and 
spent the night within hearing of the loud sea waves, 
making music as they fell in foam on the beach. Salerno 
has sixteen thousand inhabitants, and is well situated on the 
slope of hills descending to the Gulf of Salerno, one of the 
numerous, beautiful bays into which the Mediterranean 
divides itself on this coast. The Cathedral here, partly 
ornamented with the spoils of Psestum, contains the body 
of St. Matthew, brought here from the East, A. D. 930. 
Gibbon says "the men of Salerno are honest, and the 
women beautiful." We saw but little of either, but were 
terribly pestered with guides. The earthquake of last De- 
cember was violent here, and some of the houses cracked. 
This town was celebrated for its school of medicine during 
the middle ages. At the hotel here we fortunately found 
some American travelers, whom we had met at Kome, and 



RUIN'S OF P^STUM. 609 

witb. whom we soon formed a party for the ruins of Paestum 
on the morrow. 

This iSne morning, Thursday, March 11th, we set off at 
an early hour, having given directions to our landlord to 
call us, and have our '^ cq/e et des mufs " ready at a certain 
hour, as also a carriage which would contain our entire 
party, five in number, and a collation which we expected to 
take at the ruins. The road passed along a fertile vale, with 
rough, rugged, bleak mountains on our left, in the crevices 
of which we saw nestled little, old, antediluvian-looking 
villages. On our right was the sea, while around were 
wheat fields, green and beautiful, and vines festooned from 
tree to tree, like a continuous summer-house. We met on 
the route many Italians, some riding lazzaroni-like — as 
many as possible piled on one vehicle — and often the car- 
riages had four horses abreast of each other. Ours had three. 
Much of the soil exhales miasma, as indicated by the sallow 
countenances of the people. At length, after passing a yel- 
low, rapid river, the Salarus, which we did by a primitively 
contrived ferry boat, moved by a resolution pf forces, we 
came upon a lone, ancient plain, opening to the sea, where 
appeared low, thick walls, looking as if the earth had grown 
up around them, and further on we saw the ruins of the 
Temples of Paestum. The road approaches it through ruins 
of tombs, utterly nameless and noteless. The ruins of the 
first temple seen are those of Ceres ; next, in the midst, and 
the best preserved of all, you see the ruins of that of Nep- 
tune, and further on those of the Basilica. The vast rows 
of columns around the temples are all that remain. These 
ruins are in the midst of a plain, desolated by the miasma, 
and deserted for one thousand years. The sea, that part of 
it sung by Homer, roars around the ruins. Briers, and 
weeds, and beautiful wild flowers, grow over the floors. 
East are the rough, high mountains, on which is some 
snow. There is a quiet, old, Italian village there, built high 
39 



610 EUINS OF PJESTUM. 

up to escape the malaria. The columns of the temples are 
all of travertin, the calcareous stone which forms the under 
surface of the plain. They are in the earliest Grecian 
style, and are reckoned the most remarkable existing of the 
genius and taste which inspired the architects of Greece, 
with the single exception of one building at Athens. They 
look as if ages of ages had inflicted their silent destiny on 
them, rising as they do, mute, impressive, stern, and elo- 
quent — the fragments of a city three thousand years old. 
I have seen nothing so impressive in Italy as the Temples 
of Paestum. It has been remarked that they look super- 
natural — they are so lofty and grand, and so stern and noble 
in their proportions, of such unquestioned antiquity — and 
yet there is nothing in character with them around, nothing 
that could have erected them. The plain is deserted and 
silent. The old walls of the city, with occasionally an arch 
to be seen at some of the gates, are overgrown and sunk 
into the earth. All seems to belong to a past age. The 
Eoman Emperor, Augustus, about the time of Christ, gazed 
with admiration on these Doric temples, regarded then as 
of rare and prodigious antiquity. It certainly existed seven 
hundred and six years before Christ, and probably much 
earlier. Its origin is assigned to the Phoenicians. The 
Eomans conquered it about two hundred and seventy-three 
years before Christ, and the Greek rites and customs were 
suppressed. Ancient writers assert that on an annual, 
solemn occasion, the old inhabitants assembled to weep in 
common over the loss of their independence, customs, and 
language. The Romans delighted in it as a place of resi- 
dence, and the poets have celebrated its roses, which 
bloomed twice a year. Its violets are also celebrated. The 
old ruins are now full of beautiful wild flowers, though I 
did not observe roses or violets. The Saracens attacked it 
in the ninth century, and desolated it ; the air became in- 
fested with the malaria, the diminished inhabitants removed 



RUINS OF PiESTUM. 611 

to the mountains, and the once flourishing, commercial, and 
elegant Greek city has been a desert for one thousand years. 
The fallen-down ruins of the walls can be traced for two- 
and-a-half miles. We sat down on the fallen columns in 
the middle of the Basilica. The day was pleasant, though 
the sunlight was dim. The wilderness of fluted Grecian 
columns is in view. The desert, time-cursed plain, whence 
death exhales, is all around. The Basilica presents the 
appearance now of quadrangular rows of columns support- 
ing the architrave, the roof and all the marble ornaments 
being gone. The length is one hundred and seventy-nine 
feet, the breadth eighty feet, the height of the columns 
twenty-one feet, diameter of the columns at the base four 
feet. The number of flutings in each column is twenty. 
There are fifty columns in all, sixteen on each side, and 
nine on each front. The shafts of the columns diminish 
from the base to the top, in a curve. I also stood on the 
fallen-down walls, composed, as are all the basement walls 
of the temples, of huge blocks of travertin. Beyond 
stretched a suffocated river, lost and choked in a swamp, as 
it attempts to find its way to the sea — being obstructed by 
the fallen ruins of the city. The dismal croaking of a frog 
seemed a proper accompaniment to the scene. The beggars 
along the road beg, and nothing is Grecian, or gay, or glad, 
but the birds and the wild flowers, and the venerable tem- 
ples. The Temple of Neptune is the largest of the three 
It is regarded by some as the most majestic and ancient in 
all Europe. It presents an architecture simple and primi- 
tive. The general form of the edifice is an oblong rect- 
angle. It is one hundred and ninety-five feet in length, 
seventy-nine in breadth ; height of the columns twenty-nine 
feet; diameter of the columns at base, six feet ten inches; 
number of flutings in each column, twenty -four. There 
are six immense Doric columns on each front and twelve on 
each side. There is part of a second row of smaller 



612 KUIISrS OF P^STUM. 

columns, constituting a second story, standing on top of tlie 
lower entire row. The roof, the walls of the side, the mar- 
ble casing, are all gone ; nothing but the foundation floor 
of stone, and these thirty-six grand columns with the 
smaller ones — all perfect in their perpendicular, though they 
have stood at least twenty-five hundred years — remain. 
One can see the place of the principal altar, and where the 
blood of the victims was poured out. The other temple is 
called that of Ceres; it is one hundred and eight feet in 
length, forty-seven feet seven inches in breadth ; height of 
columns, twenty feet ; diameter at base, four feet ; number 
of flutings, twenty in each column. This is the smallest, 
but the most elegant in style, of the temples. The columns 
of these temples stand firmly on their bases, not having 
moved a particle. Time, with, respect to them, would seem 
to be almost a mere illusion, as they have stood for nearly 
half the commonly recognized period of humanity. The 
travertin of which they are built seems remarkably fresh 
in some places, where it has been broken. East of the 
temples, toward the mountains, may be seen a solitary arch, 
being a portion of the gate of the city that led to the moun- 
tain. Around it are ruins of walls, like hills, and also re- 
mains of aqueducts, intended to convey water from the 
mountains to the city, across the plain. There are some 
other ruins within the walls, degraded, however, so much as 
to be scarcely visible; there are vestiges of the ancient 
streets, there are ruined towers along the city walls, secret 
passages, etc. ISTear the road is a small hotel ; and there is 
a church and convent near. It is impossible to describe 
how small, and mean, and destitute of style these modern 
buildings look, in contrast with these grand, Greek ruins — 

Where the green sea comes and shivera 

Out in shreds upon the shore, 
And its ocean wail delivers 

To cold rocks forever more. 



RUINS OF PiESTUM. 613 

There a plain, malaria stricken, 

Grows Greek temples, strange and old, 

Ruins ronnd the pathway thicken. 
That have had a life untold. 

Thrice a thousand years have hasted, 

Human things, like empires, fled — 
Fell, and into atoms wasted — 

These alone dare not be dead. 

Crowds that lingered round each portal — 

Priest and victim, minstrel, king — ' 
All of these, as merely mortal. 

Went to their own withering. 

Aged and grim, and grand and solemn. 

Here these temples stand sublime, 
Proudly on its base each column 

Seems to mock at moving Time. 

Here the tired old earth seems keeping 

These as relics of her heart — 
Something she can turn to weeping — 

Since all other things depart. 

Certes it is that certain places are haunted, that is if you 
understand haunting properly. Their past lingers around 
them, and is immortal. You feel their physiognomy and 
say, " I do not like," or " I do like such a place, but camiot 
tell the reason why." You seem to be unconsciously taking 
up ideas or acts that are sAacZoty??/ enacting there yet. Why 
not? Is not every thing that has been, acting yet ? Is an 
atom eternal; and not an action ? If the memory of the act 
exists, why not the act? I have been in places, and Psestam 
is one, where you feel the past — could read it, and write its 
history. Is it because it is all there yet — though in the 
shadow land ? Is there any thing past ? Are not all things 
haunted? The refined, subtle, enjoying Greek seems here 
with his genius, and the ruination around seems the phan- 

3b 



614 TOMB OF VIRGIL. 

tasm. Is not tlie phantasm of one world tlie real of the 
other ? and the desolation here now, the mere shadow of the 
unseen world ? 

Leaving the temples on their desert plain, listening to the 
sea roar, and to be the wonder of a thousand years to come, 
we returned on our way to Naples. Near our road a lady 
and gentleman, who had been visiting the ruins, were, a few 
' years ago, waylaid and murdered by a party of eighteen 
Italians. They were seen by a shepherd boy, concealed in 
some underwood. Seventeen were executed for it, and the 
eighteenth confessed the murder on his death-bed. We saw 
the remains of a bridge, constructed across the Silarus, by 
Murat, when King of Naples. We returned to Naples the 
same evening, having fine Italian views on our way of the 
Homeric sea, with a cloud gilt sunset, unprogressive Italian 
villages, fertile plains, rugged mountains, and lastly of 
Vesuvius, and the great heaps of ashes and cinders under 
which lies buried Pompeii. 

To-day, Tuesday, March 12th, we visited the resting 
place of him who was one of earth's greatest geniuses, and 
worthy of the greatest age of the Eoman Empire — Virgil. 
It is at the west end of the city, on the hill, above the 
entrance to the Grotto of Pau.silipo. It is extremely prob- 
able that it is his tomb. Ascending a long, winding stair- 
case from the street, near the entrance to the grotto, you 
then enter a garden on the hill-side, passing along the nu- 
merous openings and caves in the soft tufa, or volcanic 
rock, you came to some modern tombs, with epitaphs in 
Hebrew, Italian, French, and Latin. These are admirers of 
Virgil. You then descend to a small, circular building of 
stone, in the Eoman style of architecture, and this is the 
Tomb of Virgil. The jEneid was written at Naples. How 
small does all modern poetry appear by the side of this, and 
that greater one, the Iliad of Homer. Like the Temples 
of Psestum, they come out of the past with a Doric, intel- 



KINGDOM OF NAPLES. 615 

lectual grandeur, before which all competition pales. There 
is ivy around the tomb, and small trees are growing on it. 
Entering, you see a small, vaulted, stone chamber, around 
the walls of which are niches, to contain the vases which 
had the ashes of the dead. They are all utterly empty — 
the dust of Yirgil has been scattered long ago. There is 
a small marble slab on which is inscribed the epitaph writ- 
ten by Yirgil — the original slab being lost in the night of 
ages. A free translation of it amounts to this : '' I was born 
at Mantua, I died in Calabria, and now Naples holds me. 
I sung of shepherds, pastoral scenes, and generals." The 
scene around is most lovely. It embraces Naples, Yesuvius, 
the bay, with its fringe of white water foaming on the 
shore. Near are numerous caverns in the tufa rock, and 
the great one of Pausilipo, just below the rocks, on which 
the tomb stands. Yiolets, rich in fragrance, bloom. You 
pluck some ivy from the tomb, and walk away. For six 
centuries pilgrims have come to this spot — for where im- 
mortal geuius rests, lingers an immortal charm. From this 
extends around the hill a most pleasant walk along the 
beach, with the bay on the left, and on the right, the hill, 
with its splendid old palm trees, its modern villas, and its 
ruins of ancient ones. But for Italy — falleu, glorious, 
ancient, noble, able, yet incompetent Italy — the world 
should do somethiug. 

The Kingdom of Naples, or as its proper name is, that of 
the "Two Sicilies," consists of the southern part of the 
peninsula of Italy, and of the Island of Sicily. There are 
fifteen provinces in the former, with a population of nearly 
9,000,000 ; in the latter, seven provinces, with a population 
of 2,231,020. The total army consists of about 144,000 
men. The population in the continental, or Italian portion 
of the kingdom, are classified as follows: 29,783 secular 
clergymen; 12,751 monks; 10,449 nuns; 25,572 civil and 
military officers ; 5,981 engaged in public instruction ; 7,920 



616 FAKEWELL TO ' ITALY. 

lawyers; 15,906 physicians; 12,666 merchants; 13,476 
artists; 636,320 artisans; 1,823,080 agriculturists; 70,970 
shepherds ; 31,190 seamen. The vine is of universal growth. 
Tt is propagated by either layers or cuttings. It begins to 
produce the third year. The vintage begins at the end of 
September. The grapes are collected in a vat sunk beneath 
the floor, where they remain a few days, till trodden out. 
The olive also grows universally ; best, however, in slopes 
or stony districts. It is propagated by slips, by shoots, and 
by grafting slips on the wild olive. Shoots require many 
years. Grafting is performed in March or April, and the 
fruit is produced in about five years. If intended for oil, it 
is allowed to remain on the trees till it reaches maturity. 
The government of the kingdom is that of an absolute 
hereditary monarchy. 

But adieu to Italy — fair and dear Italy — forever 1 The 
return steps have been taken. It is time to consider the 
" eye as satisfied with seeing." Though life is said to be a 
travel, traveling is not the business of life. At this point I 
resolve to suspend my wandering for the present, and direct 
my steps to the west. The south of Italy is, of all countries 
on earth, perhaps, the most pleasant. No person has ever 
left Italy without regrets. There is an enjoy ability, a 
charm in the air; the ear grows accustomed to the soft 
language; the scenes are so ancient — the mellowness of 
great age and historical renown is on them — the natural 
beauties of hill and mountain, cloud and sky, are ever ap- 
pearing The three months and a half I have spent here, 
the scenes I have been through, and the friends with whom 
I have seen them, must remain among the chief delights of 
memory. I procured to-day the requisite visas to my pass- 
port, that of the American Consul, the Neapolitan Police, 
and the French Minister, averaging about a dollar each — 
that of the American Consul being the highest. At four 
o'clock I took the parting hand with one of my companions, 



THE SEA. 617 

who attended me to the water, and I can look back at my 
last act in Italy, at all events, with pleasure, as it was to 
bestow a gratuity on a hoary-headed beggar. Previous to 
this I paid the Custom House officers the usual fee for not 
examining my baggage — they attending the departure of 
each traveler as pertinaciously as the beggars. I then em- 
barked on the steamer Bosphorus, for Marseilles. As we 
sailed out the bay, I saw the last of that classic scenery — 
Vesuvius smoking in the air, a great, wonderful spectacle — 
then we passed the islands of Capri, Ischia, the Bay of 
Bai^, with all the scenes connected with many delightful 
associations of memory with friends in Naples, were soon 
no more in view, and that old, respectable sea, the Mediter- 
ranean, whose waves began to make me terribly sea-sick, 
was alone in view on one side. We kept close along the 
shores of Italy, and early next morning arrived at Civita 
Yecchia, the port of Eome, and only forty miles distant 
from the Eternal city. It has artificial harbors, moles, piers, 
castles, like Leghorn. I did not land, however, but here I 
had the last view of fair Italy. We remained here some 
hours. It is noted by travelers on account of the extraor- 
dinary vivacity of its beggars and police-officers, and the 
great inconveniences thrown in the way of travelers. Our 
course now lay north of the Island of Corsica, which we 
saw, as also the islands of Elba and Monte Christo, with 
their historic, biographic, and romantic memories. The 
latter is apparently a vast desert rock, rising out of the 
deep sea. We then passed directly toward the coast of 
France, and steamed vigorously all night. The next morn- 
ing at four o'clock came on a regular, or rather irregular, 
war of the elements. The sun was very bright, but the 
winds were most furious. Whether it was the Vent d hise, 
Mistral, the Euroclydon, or other peculiar wind of this sea, 
I could not determine, being quite incapable of exercising 
any analytical powers, as the waves were high and awful, 

3b2 



618 FRANCE. 

beat entirely over the vessel, and came down into tlie 
cabin like an Alpine torrent. The storm continued all 
the day. 

Toward evening we began to discern the bluff coasts of 
France, and at seven o'clock we landed at Marseilles; and I 
stood on the soil of France again. It impresses one quite 
favorably, after being in Italy — the streets are so much 
cleaner, the inhabitants more industrious and civilized. It 
strikes one that the people of France speak very good 
French, after one has heard it in other parts of the conti- 
nent, and the sound of sous, franc, and centime, is pleasant 
after one has been pound, shilling, and penced in England ; 
guildered and stivered in Holland ; florined and kreutzered 
in Germany ; livred, thalered, and silver groschened in 
Prussia; guldened in Austria; and pistareened, scudoed, 
bajocchied, ducated, piastred, and carlinoed in Italy. I 
have usually found it best to change my circular notes into 
French Napoleons, gold coins worth twenty francs, or three 
dollars and eighty cents, and as these are current every- 
where in Europe, procure with them the smaller change of 
each country. We proceeded to the Hotel des Empereurs, 
a miserable hotel, though with a vast sounding name, great 
pretensions, and in a fine situation. Travelers often meet 
again who had met before, like clouds careering over the 
sky, and on the steamer I met with a former fellow-traveler 
whom I had seen in Kome. We spent a day or two in 
Marseilles. It is a large city — population one hundred and 
ninety thousand — built on barren sea rocks and cliffs. It is 
the first and finest seaport of France and the Mediterranean. 
The first settlement of Marseilles is claimed as being by the 
Phoenicians, three thousand years ago. The harbor is a 
natural one, but has been vastly improved. The old harbor 
occupies about seventy-six acres, and could contain twelve 
hundred vessels. This is the great Steam Packet station of 
the Mediterranean, and from hence depart vessels every few 



FEANCE. 619 

days across to Africa, and to tlie East, toucHng at the vari- 
ous ports, landing passengers in Sicily, Italy, Alexandria in 
Egypt, and Jaffa, Smyrna, CoDstantinople, Athens, etc. The 
rates of fare on these vessels are high. The price, first-class, 
from Naples to Marseilles is about thirty-six dollars, though 
ordinarily the passage should be made in about fifty hours. 
The second-class passage is twenty-five dollars. A new 
harbor is being constructed here, which is a most stu- 
pendous work. We walked along the quays and harbors, 
saw the immense crowd, the costumes of various nations, 
Turks, Greeks, Algerines, and immense quantities of the 
finest oranges, and other kinds of fruits, for sale. We 
entered some of the fine steamers bound for the East, and 
began to feel a spirit of Oriental rambling bestir within us. 
In visiting the Custom House to reclaim our baggage and 
passports — the latter having been taken from us at Naples 
on embarking — we were agreeably refreshed by an accession 
of morality on the part of the ofiScers of the police ; they 
courteously examined our baggage, without requesting pay 
to omit their duty. The morality of the government in the 
" States of the Church " is susceptible of further emenda- 
tions. One decided proof of being in France is the presence 
of numerous, good, and well-lighted restaurants and cafes. 
The French are a restaurant and cafe people. They are 
very convenient for travelers, who, fatigued with rambling, 
or disgusted with the cuisine of his hotel, can here study 
the costumes and manners, and drink the best coffee that 
could be made. We walked through some of the old, dirty, 
narrow streets of the old city, and saw the shrines to the 
Virgin. We then hired a coach, and drove around the bet- 
ter parts of the city — many of the streets there being wide, 
and planted on each side with rows of trees. We visited 
the Zoological Gardens, which are interesting, as containing 
some rare animals, among which I noticed a white peafowl. 
The views frome some points are splendid, embracing the 



620 FEANCE. 

blue sea, several islands — that of If, with its castles. We 
begin to find that we are now under a government with a 
man at the head of it, as many of the improvements, evident 
everywhere, are commenced and worked forward by the 
present emperor, who has almost remodeled some parts of 
the city. There is a grand triumphal arch in one of the 
streets, extremely laudatory of him. All works of art, 
however, pale before those of the Italians and ancient 
Greeks. We left Marseilles the second morning after our 
arrival from Italy. The railway station at Marseilles is the 
paragon of railway stations. It is an immensely solid 
building — the upper story and roof of iron frame and glass 
plates, and every thing is admirably managed. There are 
waiting rooms for the first, second, and third-class passen- 
gers, all separate restaurant rooms ; the grounds around are 
planted in trees, and kept like a private villa, and every 
thing is comme il faut. We left the city in the clear air of 
a most lovely sunlit morning. The climate of the south of 
France is deservedly celebrated. There is a kind of mellow 
whiteness in the air that one may see at times during the 
early fall or late summer days of New Orleans, which is 
delicious. Near the city splendid scenes of cultivation 
appear — the city being surrounded with outside villas, 
called Bastides. These are very small, and look like hijoux 
of country seats. The merchants and others do not stay in 
the city during the summer season — the climate being 
intensely hot, the stench almost a visible horror, and the 
mosquitoes a feeling institution. They retire to these 
places and ornament them with a kind of foppish, French, 
artificial taste — flowers, umbrella pines, olives, and almonds 
— the latter are now in bloom— insomuch that the scene looks 
like a continued garden, dotted with summer-houses. The 
English have many villas on this coast, and it is the invariable 
resort of an eloping pair from England. Lord Brougham's 
villa, near Marseilles, is a beautiful one. The old prison, 



ARLES. 621 

where the " Man with the Iron Mask/' the reputed twin 
brother of Louis XIY., was confined, is an interesting place. 
We passed through vineyards and wheat fields, sloping 
toward the sea. There were cheerful, glad, clean young 
ladies, dream-of-love-in-a-cottage-looking places, long ave- 
nues of pines, and the sunny, southern, tideless sea beyond, 
and far over its waves is Africa, which this coast is said 
very much to resemble. The soil is really very sterile and 
rocky, but industry will always find a reward and a profit 
wherever bestowed; and can transform the places abandoned 
and neglected by nature, into "Happy Yalleys." Inlets 
from the blue and tranquil sea, along which are seen little 
and romantically situated villages, continued in sight for 
some time. But at length we bade adieu to the sea, near 
whose shores we had been so long, and which Dr. Johnson 
stated on his death-bed it was one of the regrets of his life 
that he had not seen. We then entered upon a large tract 
of utter stony sterility, called ''the Crau," said to be thor- 
oughly like Africa. It is covered with rolled boulders, or 
pebbles, and is mentioned in ancient authors as the place 
where Hercules fought the Ligurians, and Jupiter, his 
father, sent for his use a shower of stones from heaven. 
The Mirage of the African deserts is often seen here — an 
atmospheric phenomenon resembling inland lakes. I enter 
a prediction, however, that before ten years the French 
Emperor will transform the most of this into a garden, if 
those rascally revolutionists, who are the real enemies of all 
governments (like the fanatics at the North, of our own 
country, and the fire-eaters at the South), will let him live. 
Then we entered upon a level country of unsurpassed 
beauty and cultivation, with avenues of poplars, mulberries 
to which the vine is trailed, and all the other adornments 
of taste. About eleven o'clock we came to the small, old, 
lonely town of Aries. Like many other places unprogres- 
sive at present, it invites you back to its past, as the most 



622 ARLES. 

interesting. It is on tlie EhonC; here a wide and rapid 
stream, whose source I saw last summer in a tremendous 
glacier in the higher Alps, near the frightfully savage Pass 
of the Grimsel. At Aries we remained some hours, visiting 
first the ruins of a theatre of the Eoman times, with its 
semicircle of stone seats yet remaining, almost entire ; and 
in the centre are yet standing two lofty columns of marble, 
with remains of chapiters and marble entablatures scattered 
all around. There is nothing so mournful as the relics 
of a mighty institution like the Eoman Empire, which, for 
twelve hundred and twenty-nine years controlled the politi- 
cal destinies of this world. The ancient ruins in some cities 
exhibit workmanship and art of so superior a style, in con- 
trast with such wretched, mean, modern buildings, that one 
is tempted to think the present is a degenerate and degener- 
ating age, and that Europe was greater when the Eoman 
dominions extended from the Euphrates to the Thames than 
it has ever been since. It may be, however, that every 
generation gets weaker and wiser, as saith the old motto. 
This theatre has been disinterred from the earth, and the 
accumulated rubbish of ages cleared out. We next saw the 
Amphitheatre, which is of vast size, and in rather better 
preservation than the Coliseum at Eome, which it resembles. 
It has two tiers of lofty Eoman arches, sixty arches in each 
tier, surrounding an oval arena. The numerous and wind- 
ing corridors and passages for the gladiators and beasts yet 
remain, to a great extent. The old Eoman masonry, mas- 
sive and without cement, time-eaten with the tooth of ages, 
is very fine. We went through some of the long passages 
admitting ingress and egress. It, like the Coliseum, was 
used, during the middle ages, as a fortress. It is sur- 
mounted by some Yisigoth towers of the middle ages. It 
is calculated twenty-five thousand persons could sit on the 
seats within. It has forty-three rows of seats. It is about 
the age of the Coliseum — about seventeen hundred and 



ARLBS. 623 

eighty years. Until recently, it was surrounded and choked 
up by an accumulation of mean, modern houses ; these have 
been removed since travelers have begun to perambulate all 
Europe, and wonder at the ruins of the Eoman Empire. 
We next saw the falling walls of the city, with Lombard 
towers, the whole rebuilt on the yet older Roman founda- 
tion, the repairs having become aged, and the restorations 
needing renewal. Outside the walls we visited a very 
singular ruin of an old abbey, said to have been destroyed 
by the Saracens in the seventh century. Around it lie vast 
numbers of stone sarcophagi of the middle and earlier ages. 
In some places they are three tiers deep, and the earth has 
grown up around them, and their cornices look out from 
the sides of the excavations. The passages to the ruins are 
lined with them, and you walk along a wall of coffins. 
There are no bones in them, and a few of the inscriptions 
are half legible. Few things that I have seen have seemed 
so impressive as these numerous, empty, stone tombs, piled 
on each other, scattered about, and peering from excavated 
places. They are Roman, Greek, Saracen, middle aged, 
and early Christian, and probably have been used in suc- 
cession as resting-places for the bones of different nations 
and creeds that warred in life, and at death, the dead being 
conquered too, were ousted to make room for the bones of 
the conquerors. It was esteemed an almost certain passport 
to heaven to be buried here. It was called Aliscamps, or 
the Elysian Fields. Buring the middle ages it became the 
most remarkable burying-ground of Christendom, and it 
was considered a vast honor to be allowed a burying-place 
here. Certain corpses would not allow themselves to be 
buried anywhere else. The chronicles state, also, that the 
bodies and the money necessary for the funeral expenses 
were embarked in tight stone coffins, and sent down the 
Rhone, and when they arrived near this place, they were 
stopped by a supernatural force, and were interred. If any 



624 ARLES. 

wicked person robbed tbe coffin of tbe money it contained, 
it would sternly refuse to continue its course down the 
waves. After several hundred years the reputation of the 
place declined, and was abandoned, and for a while forgot- 
ten. The Eoman tombs, which had been at one time viola- 
ted to receive the bodies of Christians, had been despoiled 
anew, and the ancient urns, the moneys, and the utensils in 
bronze, made a lucrative sale, and the holy resting-place of 
ages gone was sacrilegiously seized as a mine of profit. The 
archbishop anathematized in vain ; the rich sarcophagi and 
fine marbles were soon gone, and at present the most 
modest and heavy coffins remain, and some are used in the 
adjoining fields as troughs to water cattle in, and this last 
chamber of repose, once so rich in urns and medals, is now 
but the dehris of a ruined cemetery. There is a propensity 
in mankind to rifle costly tombs, of which those who wish 
to be buried in grandeur do not seem to be aware. The old 
church near the cemetery is in ruins. Eows of dark pines 
are around it. From this we went to the museum, where 
we saw numerous sepulchral vases, Eoman and Greek, por- 
tions of capitals of columns, mutilated statues, bas reliefs, 
and old inscriptions of all times — some found in the theatre, 
amphitheatre, or in the Ehone, which runs near, in the daily 
excavations into the past which they are now making. 
Aries was once the capital of Provence. It has a popula- 
tion of nearly twenty thousand, said to be on the decrease. 
The women are remarkable for their beauty, piquancy, and 
grace, being a mixture of three races — Greek, Eoman, and 
Saracen — the grace of the Spanish, the deep thought of the 
Greek, and the strength of the Eomans are all ascribed to 
them. We saw the singular-looking church of St. Trophimus, 
who is said to have been a disciple of St. Paul. The portal 
of this church is most singular — a deeply recessed semi- 
circular arch, with singular mouldings, resting upon a sculp- 
tured frieze, sustained by six pillars, based upon carved 



FRANCE. 625 

lionf?. The stone is of a metal color. The pictures in stone 
carvings are singular, evidently trying to impress that holy 
terror on the people on which the priests relied in the mid- 
dle ages for their temporal influence. The horrible and the 
grotesque touch each other. There are many other inter- 
esting ruins in this old provincial town ; the Imperial 
Palace of Constantine— whose residence was for a while 
here, and where his eldest son was born, and here he caused 
his favorite son, Crispus, accused of adultery, to be put to 
death — the aqueducts and the ruins of the Forum. We 
strolled along the Rhone, which is here about the size of the 
upper Ohio. 

At three o'clock we left in the train, the day being most 
lovely, and with a peculiar brightness which added much 
to the enjoyment of the scene over which we passed. We 
traveled over the beautiful valley of the Hhone, the railway 
being lined on each side with rows of pine trees — the station- 
houses on the way being very extensive and highly orna- 
mented with shrubbery around — all indicating our being in 
a very different region from ancient and unchanging Italy. 
We passed Tarascon, a city on the Rhone, with several very 
strong and ancient castles of Lombard ages ; also Beaucaire, 
celebrated for an annual fair, which dates back to A. D. 
1168, and for its ancient and romantically situated castle, 
now a complete ruin, one chapel alone remaining, in which 
St. Louis heard Mass the night before he embarked for the 
Crusades. These are all old places; the scenery of manj^ a 
romance are placed in these regions. We crossed the 
Rhone here on a strong stone bridge, and entered upon a 
scene of exquisite loveliness, stretching to the sea. It is a 
reclaimed region in part, which consisted in former years of 
vast salt marshes and lagoons, over which African animals, 
as the ibis and pelican, stalked, and the soil was in summer 
covered with a saline efEorescence several inches thick, and 
tiie deceptive mirage constantly occurred. Now we saw 
40 3 c 



626 NISMES. 

vines cropped down low, almond trees in bloom, vast olive 
plantations, and wheat fields. 

At length we came to Nismes, one of the most interesting 
towns in the south of France. It has broad streets, with 
boulevards, having avenues of trees in them. Like Aries, 
its chief objects of interest are its Roman ruins. Nismes is 
richer in well-preserved antiquities than any other town in 
France or northern Europe. The name of the Roman city 
was Nemausus, from which the present French name is 
derived. It has a vast Roman amphitheatre, in the usual 
oval style. It is two thousand years old, and stands in the 
centre of the town, and looks decayed, like the Roman 
Empire, but mighty still, like its memory. Its exterior is 
in better preservation than the Coliseum, though not so 
high nor so large and grand. Its length is four hundred 
and thirty-seven feet, width three hundred and thirty-two 
feet, height seventy feet. It has two stories of sixty arches 
each — is built of hard, massive limestone. The lower 
arches serve as doors. It has many corridors and passages 
still entire, which look like vast natural caverns. It is in- 
teresting, as we did, to go all through it — to penetrate the 
wedge-shaped passages radiating from the centre and widen- 
ing outward ; to clamber over the broken seats, some still 
marked with the line showing the space allotted to each 
spectator; to scare away the frightened lizard, or see the 
tufts of grass springing out of the masonry ; and finally 
stand on the rim of the huge oval basin, and survey the 
dismantled interior. It was used as a fortress by the Sara- 
cens, till Charles Martel drove them out by filling its pas- 
sages with straw and wood, and setting them on fire, which 
has blackened some of the walls to this day. The interior 
is not near so perfect as those of the Yerona Amphitheatre. 
The style of these Roman amphitheatres is vastly superior 
to that of any modern theatre. Nearly all the people could 
leave the Roman buildings at once. The modern places of 



NISMES. 627 

entrance and egress are quite contracted and contemptible 
in comparison. As they were open at tlie top to the sky, a 
vail or awning was so arranged as to be spread over the 
entire space, to protect the spectators from the sun, the ex- 
hibitions being generally in the day time. About twenty 
thousand persons could have been seated in it, which indi- 
cates the great population of Nismes when a city of the 
Eoman province of Gaul. Not a sixth part of the popula- 
tion would at any one time be assembled, probably, within 
it. Formerly this Amphitheatre was surrounded by mean 
houses, the inhabitants of whom burrowed in it like rats. 
They are now cleared away, and an elegant iron railing 
quite surrounds it, and a gendarme or policeman acts as 
guardian. Then ascending a hill, elegantly adorned with 
walks and terraced promenades, pines, cedars, olives, etc., 
we came to the Tour Magne, or Great Tower, a ruined and 
dismantled tomb-like structure, supposed to date beyond 
the Eoman times, and probably used as a tower of observa- 
tion by which to communicate signals from one part of the 
country to another, an ancient kind of telegraphing ; as by 
means of these towers on high hills, and understood signals, 
the approach of an enemy or other important event might 
be communicated. It forms a singular profile in the heav- 
ens, as it were, when one approaches it, and is seen from 
all parts of the horizon. Like most other ancient buildings, 
it has, in the long course of time, subserved many purposes. 
It was supposed at one time to have been a treasury ; and 
the earthy matter (it is hollow) that had accumulated within 
was cleared out, but no money found. There is a light and 
elegant staircase, constructed in modern times, by which 
you may pass to the summit, one hundred and fifty-six feet 
high. The view from the top, in the lovely air and sun of 
this region is grand. Below is the city, with its wide 
streets, planted with trees; and conspicuous is the great 
Roman ruin, grandly preserved — the Amphitheatre; the 



(>28 NISMES. 

gardens near tlie base of the tower, with many trees in 
bloom; the green fields of the plain of the Khone; the 
vineyards, in which the peasants were at work with their 
wooden plows; also a singular tooth-like mountain, one 
can see afar off — the commencement of the Pyrenees 
range in Spain ; the mist over the Mediterranean ; the ram- 
parts of old towns. The tower is of a conical shape, and is 
greatly in decay, and a most interesting ruin. Near the 
base of the hill are most beautiful public gardens. A very 
large fountain of pure water bursts from the base of the 
hill, which is carried in canals around the gardens among 
ancient elms, beautiful flowers and shrubbery ; some fine 
statues ; and near are some majestic Koman ruins, called 
the Temple of Diana, built by Augustus, the Eoman em- 
peror. The Eoman ruins look like eternities, with their 
arches and their strong, unyielding masonry. The orna- 
ments and marbles are all gone, or a few detached frag- 
ments remain, with inscriptions half legible. Some regard 
this ruin as a remnant of one of those great buildings, called 
Boman Baths by us for want of a better name. They were 
in general public places, to which the better sort of the citi- 
zena retired to enjoy the higher pleasures of life, according 
to their tastes, whether exercises of the body or of the mind. 
They comprehended promenades, libraries, galleries of the 
arts, theatres, etc. Europe shows us the results of time, 
which are in progress merely in America. Each age im- 
proves., adds, and imitates ; and the same ideas work them- 
selves out in a new field. The Eomans and Greeks had 
their Baths, Forums: we have our Exchanges, Cafes and 
Saloons. The mind of man has a more diversified scope in 
later ages, but has lost in strength, sublimit}^ and originality. 
Such constructions as those of old Eome or Greece will 
never again be reared on this earth. We also visited the 
house called " Maison Carr^," or square house. It is a gem 
of Eoman, architecture, with the perfect unity of style for 



NISMES. 629 

which the ancients were famous. It is in a state of wonder- 
ful preservation. Like all ancient buildings, it has been 
appropriated to many and various uses. Originally a tem- 
ple, it then became a Christian church ; then a Mciyor's 
palace ; then a stable — was afterward used as a house for 
burial ; then a revolutionary tribunal ; a corn warehouse ; 
and it is now a museum. It is surrounded by thirty ele- 
gant Corinthian columns, ten of them being detached from 
the portico. It is so beautiful, elegant-looking and tasteful, 
that it is said ]N"apoleon entertained the idea of carrying it 
bodily to Paris, to adorn the Champs Elysees. It is about 
seventeen hundred years old. It is a rectangle, about one 
hundred feet long and sixty-five broad. The height of the 
columns is about fifty feet. The ornaments of the cornice 
and the mouldings recall the most beautiful works of the 
Greek artists at Athens. It is used as a museum, and con- 
tains paintings and Roman remains. Some of the paintings 
are by Italian masters, and remind one of the larger and 
greater galleries of Rome and Florence. The two finest 
paintings are '^ Cromwell uncovering the Cofiin of Charles I.," 
and " Nero trying on a Slave the Poison he intended for 
Britannicus." The former is a great painting; Cromwell 
is coolly but curiously contemplating the remains of the 
beheaded monarch, as if to dare any thing remorseful to 
come out of that act. We also visited the (rate of Augus- 
tus, a half-buried remnant of the old city gates, bearing a 
Latin inscription that Augustus decreed its erection. It 
consists of two great arcades, and two smaller ones. It was 
erected sixteen years before the birth of Christ. Not far 
from this is also a resuscitated Roman reservoir. We gazed 
on some of these ruins, while a shred of a coppery moon, 
with a garniture of dazzled clouds around, hung in the sky 
over the ruins, and cast on them a drear, tender light, 
while they seemed to invoke sympathy for their two 
thousand years of age. In the centre of the principal square 

3c2 



630 FEANCE. 

of ISTismes is a most beautiful monumental fountain. There 
are five statues in marble by Kodier, the French sculptor. 
They are abundantly beautiful. One of them struck me as 
being among the greatest works of modern art. It is a 
female figure allegorizing the city of Nismes. 

This morning, March 19th, I left our pleasant hotel 
(du Luxembourgh) at Wismes, and proceeded in the train 
for Lyons, passing near the picturesquely situated ruins of 
Beauvais, then the town of Avignon, where I saw the vast 
old historical Castle and Palace of the Popes in the middle 
ages, who lived here during seventy years, which they call 
the Babylonian captivity. The city is surrounded with its 
old embattled walls and watch towers. Avignon has about 
thirty-five thousand inhabitants, and is smaller than Nismes, 
which has about forty-six thousand. Many of the streets 
are dirty and narrow, but there are some lovely flower- 
gardens, adorned by almond trees in bloom. The country 
around was formerly Papal territory, and five French Popes 
are enumerated as in the direct line from St. Peter. They 
reigned here from A. D. 1305 to 1376. On their departure 
for Rome, three schismatic Popes ruled in succession at 
Avignon. The ancient Palace of the Popes is now degraded 
into barracks and a prison. It induces a kind of instinctive 
terror, which its history justifies. There is something sin- 
gularly menacing about this Palace, in which dwelt those 
aspiring to represent the God of peace and pardon. The 
middle ages, alternately warring or trembling of fear, are 
indicated in the thick walls, the subterranean passages, the 
secret issues, the unknown gates, and the broken passages. 
The Papacy was at this time most degenerate, and became 
a passive instrument in the hands of the French kings, and 
Rome ceased for a while to sway the religious sceptre of the 
world. Every precaution seems to have been taken in this 
Palace against attack from without and surprise within. 
The balcony from which the Popes bestowed their blessing 



FRANCE. 631 

is seea above an entrance defended by drawbridges, port- 
cullis and iron gates. The walls of the Palace are one hun- 
dred feet high. Some of the towers are one hundred and 
fifty feet high, with a proportionate thickness of masonr}^ 
Here is also the torture room of the Inquisition, with funnel- 
shaped halls, designed to drown the cries of the miserable 
victims. There are in the wall the remains of a furnace for 
heating the torturing-irons. There are holes, to which was 
attached a pointed instrument, on which the condemned per- 
son was seated, being suspended by cords from above, so as 
to prevent his falling, but allow his whole weight to bear 
on the points. 

The railway passes along the valley of the Rhone from 
this, and here one begins to take leave of the transparent 
clearness of a southern atmosphere, and lose the views of 
azure-tinted landscapes. The vales are fertile, the villages 
are old-looking and are situated on rocky, limestone emi- 
nences — projections from the French Alps — and have 
Eoman ruins in most of them, and crumbling towers of the 
middle ages. The vales have long rows of poplars and 
pines through the green fields. The trees are advantageous 
in shading the wheat from the otherwise too intense heat of 
the sun. The villages are generally built of stone, and are 
old and very poor- looking, and their grandeur seems to be 
in their tottering ruins. There are many bare and bleak 
hills, but on their slopes, wherever practicable, the olive, 
and especially the vine and mulberry are cultivated — the 
olive and vine not requiring a rich soil. The olive, however, 
gradually disappears, as the course of the railway is almost 
directly north. Some assert that the scenery on the Rhone 
is equal to the Rhine. Much of it that I have seen in pass- 
ing to-day is very beautiful ; some of the valleys are very 
fertile, well cultivated, and some of the houses look com- 
fortable, and are adorned with taste and elegance. But it 
could not sustain a moment's comparison with the great and 



632 LYONS. 

noble Ehine in sublime scenery. The railway passes 
through many tunnels, some of them long ones. Many of 
the towns look as if the railway were the only fact that had 
transpired in them for five hundred years. Humanity 
would seem to be superannuated, and the ordinarj^ processes 
of living, being born, etc., to be utterly stale. Orange and 
Vienne are very interesting and old-looking towns. At one 
place there is a stone bridge, the longest in the world, over 
the Ehone. It is twenty-seven hundred feet long. It was 
built by a brotherhood of monks. Some of the towns are 
built picturesquely against a pile of rocks. There are coal 
and iron mines in some places, and a vast abundance of 
limestone. Excellent wines are made in this region. The 
vine seems to grow finely on th^ decomposed gravel. 

Approaching Lyons a very fertile valley appears, and at 
length, crossing an immense bridge, we arrived at the mag- 
nificent Crystal-Palace-like depot of this great city. The 
Rhone and Saone rivers unite below the town, which lies in 
a narrow space between, and on both sides of the rivers. It 
is large, having over two hundred thousand inhabitants, is 
well built, has numerous large squares — one of them 
embraces fifteen acres ; there are also very many large and 
fine bridges over each river. The air is, however, some- 
what impregnated with coal dust, in consequence of the 
numerous manufactories. It is the greatest place for silk 
manufacturing in Europe. It was first established here in 
1456, by Italian refugees. The large proprietor, or capi- 
talist, instead of having a number of workmen employed 
on his own premises, buys the raw material, and gives it out 
to be manufactured by the weavers, dyers, etc., on their own 
premises. There are more than thirty-one thousand silk 
looms. 

The morning after arriving being pleasant, I ascended the 
Heights of Fourvieres, a vast hill across the Rhone, and visi- 
ble from my hotel. I expected to have a view of Mount 



LYONS. 633 

Blanc, distant one hundred miles, up in whose cold heart, 
as far as ''Le Jardin," niue thousand feet high, I was last 
August. I was disappointed, however, in seeing the monster 
of mountains, as a slight haze hung over the Rhone. Nev- 
ertheless, I had a view of remarkable beauty of the city 
below me, with its four fronts, on two large and fine rivers, 
the scores of bridges, great squares, and populous streets. 
The route up to this point is interesting, as well as the view. 
ISTear the base of the hill one passes Roman ruins of a 
palace in which Caligula and Claudius both were born. On 
the place is now a hospital for the insane. Then one 
ascends by extremely zigzag streets, lined, as you approach 
the top, with numerous shops, in which are sold all kinds 
of adornments and devices for cemeteries, votive offerings, 
rosaries, medals, pictures in wax, mementoes of the dead, 
mottoes and affectionate expressions on them — a sort of 
street leading to the tomb. On the top is a church to the 
Virgin, the respect for whom seems almost as great as at 
Naples. The sides of the church, and every available 
space, are lined with pictures, shrines, and votive presenta- 
tions to the Virgin ; the number exceeds four thousand. 
Some of the inscriptions record her miraculous inter- 
cession in behalf of the devotees. Part of the hill is 
terraced, and laid out in walks and gardens. Below it is 
the Cathedral church. It is interesting to enter the French 
churches after having seen those of Italy. The Italo-Greek 
architecture is no more, and there is now in its place the 
gloomy, religious Gothic. The paintings are not so fine 
here, and one sees many poor copies of the older and better 
ones of Italy. The grand, stately Gothic does not admit of 
so much ornament. But one sees again what is rare in 
Italy, the dim, holy-looking, painted windows, which, in 
this church, are fine. There is a rare window, which is 
peculiarly beautiful. There is, in general, a better-looking 
class of worshipers in attendance here than in Italy, where 



634 LYONS. 

religion is principally in the hands of the lower classes — the 
highest class using it as an instrument, and the medium. 
class cultivating a deference for it rather than any real 
reverence. The Catholic religion is more respectable in 
France than in any other nation. Christianity was intro- 
duced into Lyons at a very early period. Polycarp, a dis- 
ciple of John the Apostle, preached, it is said, in a subter- 
ranean vault, which is shown here ; and a sort of crypt or 
well is shown, down which were thrown the bodies of nine 
thousand Christians, till it overflowed with their blood. 
The dungeons in which Pothinus, Bishop of Lyons, and 
Blondina, were confined and tortured in iron chairs, are 
shown. These events took place toward the close of the 
second century. 

I rambled through Lyons leisurely and desultorily to- 
day. In scarcely any city in Europe have I seen more 
female beauty than here. In Prague, perhaps, there was 
more, for there even the withered old hags looked like 
fallen angels. I walked along the principal streets, many 
of which are splendid, and lined with very high houses. 
Some of the jewelers' shops are scarcely inferior in splendor 
to those of Paris. One's proximity to Paris begins to be 
indicated by having Galignani's paper of the same day on 
which it is issued. This is the greatest of all European 
luxuries to the English or American traveler. It is, I 
believe, the only paper in English published on the Conti- 
nent. One sees here, as in all French towns, a great display 
of the military. That absurd and awkward-looking phe- 
nomenon in America, a " muster," seems to be going on 
here at all times. There are few of those singular, religious 
processions one meets with in Italy : those funereal, masked, 
torch-lit, chanting, sandal-shod, hooded rows of probable 
human beings one sees in Eome. You see here, instead, 
processions of charity-school children, returning from con- 
vents, clapping with their wooden shoes on the pavements 



PAEis. 635 

as they pass along. On one of the large squares in Lyons 
is an equestrian statue, in bronze, of King Louis XY., and 
on another is a bronze statue of Napoleon, to whom the 
people were much attached. It represents him in his usual 
thoughtful appearance, and around it are the names of his 
victories and the words, '^People of Lyons, I love you!" 
one of his remarks to them, which went directly to the 
heart. 

I left Lyons at nine o'clock at night for a moonlight ride 
to Paris by railway. The moon was shining brilliantly, 
and many stars were out in the blue air. We passed 
through a very long tunnel, immediately after leaving 
Lyons ; then through a succession of little old French towns, 
sleeping in the moonlight, with their tiled roofs, narrow 
streets, and star-pointing churches ; then over large vine- 
plantations, wheat fields, etc. At Macon, about forty miles 
from Lyons, is the point where I diverged last year from 
this route, going by railway to Seyssel ; thence by Diligence 
to Geneva. The railway has recently been opened the 
whole way from Paris to Geneva. The appearance of an 
ancient country like France when riding rapidly through it 
on a clear moonlit night is enchanting. The distance from 
Lyons to Paris is three hundred and twenty-six miles ; 
from Marseilles to Lyons the distance is about two hundred 
and seventy-five miles. The sun arose the next morning 
from out the sea of Alpine mountains on our right: the 
Jura chain being near, we soon got into the Valley of the 
Seine — passed the noble and majestic forests of Fontaine- 
bleau, with its Imperial Palace ; and about eleven o'clock the 
familiar scenes of Paris, the towers of Notre Dame aud the 
heights around the city began to appear in view. The city 
smiles a welcome on all who come into it. The Embarcation 
of the railway in the city is a splendid construction. Your 
baggage is politely examined, and there is no detention. 
The trunks and all kinds of baggage are laid on large 



6S6 PARIS. 

» 

tables; you open them in presence of the police-officers; 
they examine them, and return all to you. ISTotwithstanding 
all that has been said with regard to the severity of the 
French passport system, it is a positive relief to the traveler 
to come into France from Italy. It is your duty to have a 
passport and have the visa of the French consul ; that 
suffices, and you have no further annoyance. A drive 
through some of the streets soon brought me to my old 
quarters (Hotel Meurice) in the Kue de Eivoli, fronting on 
the Tuilleries Gardens. No scene, perhaps, could be more 
suggestive of gayety and pleasure than entering Paris on a 
brilliant day, after months spent in the ancient and world- 
past towns of Italy — the tombs, catacombs, ghostly churches, 
and buried cities. There all the interest is in the past : in 
Paris it is in the present: and life, health, beauty, fashion, 
splendor — all move along rejoicing up and down the Eue 
de Eivoli, Boulevards, and Champs Elys^es, and hold per- 
petual carnival. 

I have been in Paris several days, and expect to remain 
here some weeks. The city is fast filling up with travelers. 
It is delightful to meet old fellow travelers, from whose 
routes our own has diverged, compare notes since parting, 
and revive the recollections of old scenes and scenery. 
I have met with' several such, and one soon begins to feel 
at home in Paris. You can find the Paris of the middle 
ages if you search for it, in the old, crooked, narrow streets ; 
or you can find Eoman ruins here too ; but Paris is princi- 
pally the present — the light, the superficial, unthinking 
present! .Nothing that I have seen in Europe among the 
unhappy ruins of Italy, the stately cities of Germany, or 
the self-satisfied dullness of England, can compare in splen- 
dor, beauty, and attractiveness to Paris. The world pre- 
sents nothing exactly like the Eue de Eivoli, the Boulevard 
Madeleine, the Boulevard des Italiens, the Boulevard des 
Capuchins, the Champs Ely sees, or the Promenades of the 



PARIS. 637 

Bois du Bologne, to say nothing of tlie " Jardin Mabille," 
and many other places like the latter kind. I have revisited 
the Louvre. After having seen the great galleries of Italj; 
one is better prepared to explore it, though in several 
things — as ancient sculpture — it is very far behind both 
the Vatican and Capitol Galleries of Rome and the Sculp- 
ture Gallery of the Museo Borbonico of Naples. In paint- 
ing it is also behind many galleries in Rome, to say nothing 
of the Yatican and several in Germany. Yet it is a glad- 
ness to see those miles of stately buildings inclosing great 
court-yardS; and ascend those grand staircases to the various 
museums. Then it is a relief to have no petty fees de- 
manded, and not to be enveloped in beggars. I have seen 
but few beggars on returning to France : it is not allowed 
by law at all. A few, however, will beg, as a kind of pre- 
scriptive right ; and the police do not interfere with a few- 
favorite, ancient, and venerable beggars, who, if they were 
not allowed to beg, would perhaps not condescend to live. 
Nor are you here annoyed by petty Guide-Book vendors. 
If your air and appearance indicate that you do not know 
''what is what," on a sudden sundry annoyances, in both 
these latter-mentioned forms, may assault you. France is 
probably at the present time the best governed country in 
the world. Those disagreeable people called the English, 
with their coarse, new, badly-fitting clothes, do not need 
half the government the light and volatile French do. 
Enlist their pride in any thing, let them get a little accus- 
tomed to it, and no further government is needed. The 
despotism you hear of in France you do not see when you 
are there. It is true you see a vast number of soldiers at 
all times ; but what could they make a living at if they 
were not soldiers ? Every art, trade, profession and busi- 
ness is already overcrowded. It is their livelihood ; they 
are consumers, and create a market for the industry of 
others. When our country is as populous as France, and 

3 D 



638 PARIS. 

tlie aboriginal forests of tlie West and South cease to afford 
scope and space for redundant and restless people, we may 
find the creation of a standing army no bad substitute. 
People should not argue from our present to our future. 
They should argue from the youth of former nations to our 
youth, and from their old age to our old age — from what 
has been to what shall be, since nations pass through the 
same historic process. There was a time when Grreece and 
Eome were as free as we are, or ever were. A good govern- 
ment, both in theory and practice, as ours is, is as bad, 
in the hands of corrupt, contemptible, dishonest, mean men, 
as a tyrannical government in theory when administered 
by wise, judicious and honest rulers. The mean, ignorant 
and vicious office-holders, the corrupt, pandering, sap- 
headed simpletons who go to Congress and the State Legis- 
latures, would drag down any Government on earth ; and 
ours is only kept up because supported and freighted by an 
Almighty destiny. It has also the inherent vitality of youth 
and the attachments to the better age and better people of 
the Eevolution. We did not rush unadvisedly into exist- 
ence on the Fourth of July, 1776, announcing as our first 
utterance, that "All men were born free and equal." 
Other people also knew a few things before that ; and it 
was no news to the world to hear it. It is not an unwise 
thing to catch a feW" beams from the lighthouses that glim- 
mer over the ocean of the past, both to render us a little 
more modest about our present and a little more careful 
about our future. Our real greatness is in our Protestant 
diffusion of the Bible, in our giving homes to all nations, 
in our civilizing and improving the African race, in driving 
off and exterminating the unimprovable Indian races, and 
reclaiming lands useless for ages, and in giving to the 
world an experiment of a government deriving its right 
from the consent of the governed; and our dangers will 
result from Protestant priestcraft, and corruption in office, 



PARIS. 639 

getting the people disgusted witli the government. As long 
as this is enshrined in the hearts of the people, it may defy 
faction within and war without, though aided and abetted 
by all the devils in hell. 

One sees in Paris a rather singular kind of democracy. 
The present emperor is trying to humble the old noblesse. 
Therefore they are reduced in style, not much connected 
with the state, and many of them become poor. The no- 
bility of the empire have neither blood nor antecedents be- 
yond the last few years, arising, like the first Napoleon^ 
and light itself, from the majesty of chaotic nothing. As 
the former are made democratic in reality by poverty and 
neglect, and the latter by truth and memory, a rather equiv- 
ocal state of society arises, and the worn-out, and super- 
annuated blood, and weak elegance of manners, is sup- 
planted by a fresh infusion of families, and a rough strength, 
the legacy and result of the Revolution. Yesterday I saw 
a white and pretty lady, arm in arm, walking with a black 
woman. I saw a negro boy in one of the great galleries 
here, taking copies of the old masters — not exactly of " ole 
massa," however. Like the Catholic religion, the French 
know no distinction of color. 

To-day, March 23d, I walked through the Louvre Mu- 
seum, going first into part of the Grallery of Paintings, 
where I saw many interesting and fine paintings of the 
French school, which is more florid and factitious, and not 
so intense and elegant in its scope, nor so profound and 
original in delineation as the Italian. The French are a 
greater people, but the Italians have produced greater men, 
including Napoleon Bonaparte, who was descended from an 
old Italian family, descendants of whom live now in Flor- 
ence. In the portraiture of feelings Italians are of course 
utterly unrivalled. For us, Americans, we are a nation of 
poets, painters, sculptors and artists; but have never yet 
produced a poet, painter, sculptor, or artist. I saw several 



640 P4.RIS. 

paintings suggestive of actual landscape scenes in Italy, 
which I have beheld. I walked also into the Egyptian 
Gallery. This is really quite extensive, and perhaps more 
interesting than any other in Europe of this kind. How 
remarkable the coloring on those stone or wooden sarco- 
phagi after four thousand years have passed, having existed 
two-thirds of the entire lapse of time! The hieroglyphics 
on the stone coffins, and the mummies in them, are curious 
and hideous. It is old, dead, passed away Egypt, with 
gods, idols and worshipers come out upon the present. In 
the Louvre there is an old hall, with oak carvings on the 
panels — ancient armor of many French kings — all old, 
kingly and dead. There is here a fine portrait of Louis XI Y., 
with a kind of wearisome satiety on the countenance — as if 
to say royalty was not enough. There are presents here 
from many Popes to the kings. Next to this is the Hall of 
the old Napoleon, where are many mementoes of him — the 
old military hat he wore at St. Helena, which is indeed a 
" shocking bad hat ;" there is his small camp-bed, on which 
he lay after many a battle ; there is also a gray coat, per- 
forated with bullets in some places ; there is his large gold 
watch ; and there are many other mementoes of the man 
that made the empire : saddles from Turkish kings ; mathe» 
matical instruments used by him ; state robes, etc., used by 
the Man of Destiny in his grandeur. Then I entered halls 
with a collection of paintings of the very life-like Dutch 
school. I saw what I consider an inferior copy of Leonardo 
da Vinci's '/Last Supper," the original of which I saw at 
Milan. It is not near so good as the half-defaced original. 
The face of the Saviour lacks the majestic dignity of the 
never-equalled original, and some of the Apostles do not 
seem to have the same attitudes. Perhaps the copyist ex- 
pected to improve on the original 1 Then into many apart- 
ments, containing a collection of the finest lithographs in 
the world; with models in plaster of ancient Greek and 



PAKIS. 641 

Roman statuary, tbe originals in Italy. The Louvre must 
have been a wonderful collection of art, when it contained 
the great originals, both of painting and sculpture, stolen 
by the Emperor from conquered Italy and Grermany. These 
were all restored on his downfall in 1815. Then I went 
into many halls, containing many sketches, drawings and 
cartoons, by celebrated masters. These halls are well warmed 
with fires, very different from the cold galleries of Rome, 
with only an iron brazier filled with ignited charcoal sitting 
in the centre of the marble floor. Then I went into another 
part of the Picture Gallery, where the best pictures are — 
especially the real gem of the Louvre, Murillo's celebrated 
painting of the '' Immaculate Conception" — a work before 
which to pause. There is an innocence, a lofty serenity, a 
holiness, in that almost girlish face, with an expression of a 
deep destiny, that one does not see even in the Madonnas 
of Raphael. It is probably the finest painting in the Louvre, 
which is saying a great deal, for there are many by Raphael 
and Leonardo da Yinci. Many of the faces of the latter 
seem to me borrowed from the same original. There are 
also many by Domenichino, Titian, Rubens, Guido Reni, 
Poussin. The number of paintings in the Louvre is nearly 
two thousand, consisting of the Italian, Spanish, German, 
Holland and French schools. Not a single English paint- 
ing (if there is such a thing) is in it. There are numbers 
of ladies and gentlemen, tourists, in those splendid galleries 
and rooms at all times, (or from 10 A. M. to 5 P. M., every 
day except Monday,) as in last summer, for the course of the 
world is ever onward, and in the same beaten directions. 
At twelve o'clock there is a grand parade in the court-yard 
of the Tuileries Palace, which is separated by a high rail- 
ing from the great square or place inclosed by the Louvre, 
and the lateral buildings connecting it with the Tuileries. 
The Imperial Guard is then changed, and one can see the 
splendid and imposing appearance of the French empire's- 
41 3 d2 



642 PARIS. 

sustainers. The special guard of the Palace consists of 
about five hundred men, in splendid uniforms ; the music 
is very fine and the scene is imposing. This side in front 
of the Tuileries is the finest. You see here one of Napo- 
leon's Triumphal Arches, rather interesting in itself, but 
not much after one has seen the decayed marble ones of 
Eome in their venerable age and historic grandeur. Passing 
along the Eue de Eivoli to-day, about twelve o'clock, I saw 
an advance guard of perhaps thirty mounted lancers ; then 
came a plain, black, close carriage, with outriders. Through 
the window, however, could be seen the Prince Imperial, 
a rather pa]e, noticing^ handsome boy of about two years old, 
sitting on his nurse's knees ; then came the rear guard of 
thirty or forty men, galloping, and the brilliant cortege 
passed down the Eue de Eivoli toward the Bois du Bou- 
logne, where the Prince is sent every day to take the air. 
Eoyalty is a splendid thing ; and the present grand Impe- 
rial Government, with the strong will of Louis Bonaparte 
behind it, backed with five hundred thousand bayonets, and 
the glory of the old, dead Napoleon, is a better thing than 
that antiquated, dull, Bourbon, or Orleans dynasty. 

To-day I have been leisurely strolling through Paris. 
The day is soft and pleasant, though not so warm as in 
Naples — this being considerably further north. Here is the 
gay Boulevert des Italians, with its very wide and crowded 
banquettes, with rows of trees between them and the streets, 
which are crowded with carriages. It is interesting to see 
the elegantly dressed human life rolling along these streets, 
and promenading the banquettes, the gay shops blazing with 
jewels, or articles of interest and taste, pictures, etc., with 
pretty women as the clerks. Paris is well called the para- 
dise of women and the hell of men. Then near this is the 
beautiful and stately church, the Madeleine, looking like an 
ancient Greek Temple, with its peristyle of Corinthian 
columns around it* Then I cross one of the bridges over 



PARIS. 643 

the Seine, and walk througli old Paris — the Paris of the 
Louises — and next I came to the gardens of the Luxem- 
bourg Palace. The grounds are very extensive, though in 
the heart of the ancient city ; there are stately trees waiting 
to bloom; there are long walks and drives, bordered with 
fine statues ; there are play-grounds for the children and 
the schools of this quarter of the city ; there are fountains, 
old convent walls, and in front rises the multiform building 
with its yellowish cut- stone compartments, its courts and 
corridors, before each of which stands a guard. You enter ; 
it has a fine collection of modern French paintings that only 
want several centuries of age to be considered very fine. I 
strolled through the rooms, till I grew weary. I saw them 
all last year, and though these lack the profundity of the 
old masters, they are well worthy of careful study. Near 
these grounds is the spot on which Marshal Ney was shot, 
as a traitor. He told the platoon of soldiers to fire at hiis 
heart, and stood without moving a feature. There is rather 
a florid monument over the place, erected since the Napo- 
leons came back into power, that describes his titles and 
virtues. The Marshal, as well as many others, was irre- 
sistibly impelled by his feelings to join the Emperor on 
his return from Elba, in 1815, and to his old feelings of 
attachment sacrificed the oath he had taken to the Bourbon 
dynasty. It is to him is due the credit of any members of 
the Grand Army that invaded Eussia in 1812, getting back 
to France. 

The square enclosed by the wings of the " Palais Royal," 
is one of the pleasantest places in Paris. The palace itself 
is inhabited, at present, by Jerome Bonaparte, the uncle of 
the present Emperor, and the survivor alone of the brothers 
of Napoleon, and whose posterity will be next in succession 
to the French throne, if no descendants should survive 
Louis Napoleon. It is part of the property of the Orleans 
family, which was confiscated by the present emperor. The 



644 PARIS. 

wings of tlie palace were let out as sliops during the reigrt 
of '' Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity," in the French 
Kevolution, which they continue to be at present, consist- 
ing of splendid jewelers' shops, restaurants, cafes, etc. etc. ; 
and any one can dine in a royal palace here, as I have often 
done, for four or five francs. In the open space are .prom- 
enades, fountains, trees, music ; and the scene is interesting 
here on pleasant afternoons. The Place de la Concorde, 
however, which intervenes between the Tuileries Gardens 
and the Champs Blysees, is regarded by some as the most 
beautiful square in the world. It has two grand fountains, 
which send vast quantities of water through and among 
fine statues ; there is an Egyptian obelisk, brought from 
Luxor, in Egypt, and there are allegoric statues of French 
cities around. On the place wbere the Obelisk now stands, 
stood the dreadful Guillotine of the "Eeign of Terror," 
where the king and two thousand eight hundred of the vic- 
tims of the Eevolution were beheaded. All around here 
now, however, is splendid as a bright dream of beauty. 
Above are the Tuileries Gardens, the trees of which, prin- 
cipally elm, are not yet in leaf. It is a vast space, inclosed 
by high and tasteful iron railings, with gates at various 
places, where are stationed guards, who admit every one 
from eight in the morning till nine at night. They notice 
all who come in, as you can approach the entrance to the 
Palace, where the imperial family at present reside — the 
private or reserved garden of which is separated from the 
public gardens by only a low railing; and within this re- 
served space the Prince Imperial often exercises with his 
nurses, and the Emperor and Empress walk. There are 
statues, and fountains, and elegantly kept flower-gardens 
within the inclosure, and lofty elms, which afford a secluded 
promenade. There are some seats on which to sit, and 
very many chairs, which are kept by old women, and let 



ST. DENIS. 645 

out at one sou each. It is a grand resort in the pleasant, 
sunny afternoons, for promenaders, children, nurses. 

To-day, Thursday, March 25th, with a friend, I leave 
Paris by the Northern Railway, which brings us in a few 
minutes after into a well-cultivated and garden-like country 
in the environs of the city, to St. Denis, a village within a 
few miles of Paris, which looks as if thoroughly finished 
ages ago — royal, dull, and drowsy. Yet here is the great 
Abbey of St. Denis, in the crypts of which the kings of 
France were buried for twelve hundred years, or up to the 
time of the French Revolution, when the long range of 
Royal Tombs was rifled — the French Republican Conven- 
tion having decreed their destruction. Fifty-one tombs 
were opened and demolished in three days, and the bones 
of kings, queens and princes, in every stage of decay, were 
thrown in a heap into two trenches dug outside the church. 
The royal corpses were subjected to every species of malig- 
nant insult — this, after lying in sullen, and grim, and 
royal repose, as they were deposited, in succession, since the 
year A. D. 580. After this desecration. Napoleon intended 
fitting it up as a place of interment for the princes of his 
family; and it is said the present Emperor intends carrying 
out his design ; and thus is not hasty in ordering the com- 
pletion of the Tomb of Napoleon, now in the Church of the 
Invalides. When the Bourbons were restored in 1815, the 
confused remains of Royal bones were indiscriminately col- 
lected and buried under the High Altar of the church. It 
is a Gothic building, in the pointed style, and has two beau- 
tiful towers. You enter and see the rows of Gothic columns, 
each column composed of many others. The stained glass 
windows, which surround the church, look like sections of 
the "Holy City." All is church -like, solemn, serious, 
stately, kingly. Each window is a holy legend, told in 
light, which reduplicates itself on the stone floor. Its 
appearance reminds one of Westminster Abbey. There 



64,Q ST. DENIS. 

are many cenotaphs here, or empty tombs, being mere 
monuments, the dead being buried elsewhere or lost. Those 
of Louis XII. and Francis I. are fine, each monarch lying 
in sculptured marble, like a corpse, on the bier — ghostly, 
ghastly. The arches are all Gothic, like two clasped hands 
raised in prayer. The Church is in the usual European 
style of a Latin cross, with two side aisles, separated from 
the nave by rows of columns. The Swiss sacristan, who 
struts about in uniform, comes in and shows us the curiosi- 
ties. This small altar, or painting, he will tell you is of the 
eighth century; that carving of the ninth, tenth,or eleventh; 
that rose on this or that window is of such an age. 
Napoleon caused such and such a restoration to be made, 
and so on. All the good that can possibly be attributed to 
the first Napoleon, he is sure to get the credit of in the 
reign of his nephew. If the Bourbons were on the throne, 
how different would be the statement [ There is a great 
deal of human nature in man, as sagely remarks some wise- 
acre. Then he unlocks the iron doors, and leads us down 
(by this time we are a large party, and there are several 
very pretty French girls, the beautiful living among the 
ghastly dead) into the dark, cold crypt, and see the tombs 
of French kings for more than a thousand years. Each 
lies, like a corpse, in marble, on his own tomb. The monu- 
ments being fine works of art, were preserved by the fierce, 
atheistic republicans who rifled the tombs. There are 
here the tombs of St.. Louis, Dagobert, Glovis, Childebert. 
We walked all around the crypt — a party of the living 
among the dead. In one part of the crypt is a dark, narrow, 
iron-railed apartment, never opened or showed. This is 
the sad receptacle of the dishonored kingly remnants. In 
lieu of the sacrilege committed on them, they have now the 
most sacred place directly under the high altar. The dis- 
asters that have befallen the Capet line of monarchs, who 
ruled France for nearly one thousand years, have been tre- 



PARIS. 647 

mendous, as their past glorj was splendid. The proud, 
poor things, that once reigned, enjoyed life, and passed 
away into dust and death, appear here sad enough. This, 
as well as many of the other fine churches of France, was 
greatly injured by the insane atheists of the French Revo- 
lution in their crusade against Grod. 

We returned to Paris by rail in the evening. Paris is a 
picture. Every thing in it is addressed to the eye. The 
shops are in the windows and the people in the streets, and 
their homes are the cafes and restaurants; and life is all 
public. How lovely is all this scene of city, or this scenic 
city in these moonlights ! The carriages are always mov- 
ing up and down the arcaded Rue de Rivoli as if it were a 
perpetual carnival in Paris ; the turreted Tuileries is seen 
over the great elm trees ; and the long lines of gas-lights 
mingle their brighter light with the moon's softer radiance. 
Such a scene would do to look on in memory — even from 
another world. To-day I visited the Imperial Library, in 
the Rue (or street) Richelieu. It is a vast building, to which 
some modern additions, in an excellent style of architecture, 
are now making by the present Emperor. It is high time 
there were modern men, like him, on all the crumbling, 
superannuated thrones in Europe to energize those supine 
governments, and convince them the present can be as good 
as any past. The number of books here is very great. 
They are arranged on shelves, in many large apartments, 
and consist of works of all ages. Bibles there are numer- 
ous, and of very rare editions — some of the first editions 
printed. There are specimens of the first printed works, in 
various kinds of type, in difierent cities, showing the im- 
provements in the art of printing up to the present day. 
There is here also the great Zodiac of stone representing 
the constellations as they are represented in modern days. 
It came from Egypt, and is four thousand years old. It 
shows the astronomical knowledge of the ancients. There 



648 PARIS. 

are many other Egyptian curiosities here. The Louvre 
being a collection of many museums, one can always revisit 
it with pleasure. There is a Marine Museum here, in which 
are very many models of French ships of war ; also, models 
of the principal French ports, and interesting national naval 
relics. In the Louvre there is also a Gallery of Sculpture — ■ 
the works of the middle ages, and many models in plaster 
of celebrated tombs in various churches, some unfinished 
statues by Michael Angelo, and some great works by French 
sculptors. There is also a Gallery of Ancient Sculpture 
here, though it is inferior to several in Eome. Some of 
these were found among the Eoman ruins of Aries, Nismes, 
and other places. The Gallery of Egyptian Sculpture is a 
wonderful place : the great granite idols, cat-headed men 
and man-headed lions, and curious chimeras, the hiero- 
glyphical sarcophagi, and the peculiar-looking idols of 
tbose singular people. The Assyrian and Nineveh col- 
lection is also extraordinary, and shows the breadth of mind, 
the manners and purposes of the ancients in these sculptured 
granite works. There is also a curious collection of Ameri- 
can Antiquities, found in South America. In short, it is 
very evident that people lived before w^e did, that great 
works were done, great people passed away, and that there 
is nothing new under the sun. The fine weather still con- 
tinues, and the full tide of pleasure rolls up and down the 
Kue de Eivoli, the most splendidly gay street in the world; 
then along the Champs Elys^es, and out by the Triumphal 
Arch to the Bois de Boulogne — all appears as a. surfeit of 
splendor. The Arch of Triumph, begun by Napoleon after 
the battle of Austerlitz, but not finished till 1836, is a grand 
structure. It is probably larger than any of the old marble 
ones I saw in Eome. It has a great deal of statuary about it, 
the names of ninety-six of the victories of the " Grand Army," 
and the names of three hundred and eighty-four generals. 
On one side of the Champs Elysees is the Palace of Industry. 



PARIS. 649 

It is at present shut. It is an immense quadrangle building 
of stone, covered with a net-work of iron frames, in which 
are inserted glass plates, by means of which the interior 
is admirably lighted. Around the frieze on the outside are 
the names of men eminent in the industrial arts, among 
which I noticed the names of Franklin and Fulton. 

To-day, I visited the church of St. Eustatia, one of the 
finest in Paris. It is an immense structure with two side- 
aisles of lofty columns; it has high windows with fine 
painted glass ; it is in the style of the Grreek cross, like St. 
Mark's at Venice, and looks very imposing outside and in. 
To-day I saw the Emperor and Empress, and the Prince 
Imperial. They, with some ladies, were out in the reserved 
garden of the Tuileries, separated from the public gardens 
by a low iron railing. The Emperor was plainly dressed, 
and without any decoration, in an ordinary gentleman's 
suit, over which was a black overcoat. He smoked a cigar 
and played with the little Prince, who had a little wagon, 
shovel, and wooden horse. It presented the appearance of 
a pleasant, happy domestic scene. The Emperor amused 
the child by putting gravel into a basket, which the child 
poured out as fast as he put it in. Then he showed him 
how to shovel the gravel into his wagon. Then he and the 
Empress, who was looking on and enjoying the scene, walked 
up and down the garden-path in front of the palace several 
times, the Emperor taking off his hat to the sentinels on 
guard stationed at various distances along the palace, who 
presented arms as he passed. The Empress is a very grace- 
ful and pretty woman, — rather tall. She wears a vast crino- 
line. The Emperor is not tall nor very graceful in appear- 
ance, but rather stout and broad-shouldered, fierce and 
reticent in appearance. To-day, I also visited Notre Dame, 
the most interesting church in the city, with its two great 
towers, and its numerous statues and pictures in stone all 
around its principal entrance, — all Gothic, Catholic and 

3e 



650 PARIS. 

middle aged. It is on the island in tlie Seine, tlie nucleus 
of the old city. St. Chappelle is not far from this, a most 
beautiful double little church, one church over the other, 
the upper having most beautiful windows of stained glass. 
The church is in the pointed Gothic style, and looks like a 
gem (it is principally modern) among the ancient houses 
around. Its spire ascends to a great height. I saw, also, 
the Palace of Justice and the works of the new Boulevert, 
that of Sebastopol, one of the works with which the present 
Emperor is piercing old Paris in all directions, — ^whereby, in 
case of insurrection, he can bring his artillery and armies to 
operate, — and thus destroy the old narrow streets, the secret 
haunts of rebellion, and in which, being very crooked, no 
troops or cannon could deploy. By means of these new 
and broad avenues, he can bring all parts of the city in 
connection with the forts around the city, and thus repress 
insurrection in a moment, he being well aware that if he 
can rule Paris he can rule France. Some of the bridges 
over the Seine in this part of Paris, near the Tower of 
St. Jaques and the Hotel de Yille, present views of extreme 
variety and interest, the city here wearing an appearance 
of solid and compact grandeur, and something of the old 
and almost Oriental is visible in the bizarre architecture. 
I have also visited the Garden of Plants. The Museums 
here are unsurpassed in the world. It is an immense en- 
closure, surrounded by iron railings with various entrances. 
Some of the gates are overgrown with ivy, presenting a 
pleasant appearance. There are very many evergreens in 
it, and beautiful walks around the cages of the animals, 
and conservatories of the flowers and plants. Birds also sing 
among the branches, and it is a delightful resort. I saw an 
oak two hundred and forty-nine years old, and a cedar, 
four hundred and fifty-nine years old. The Geological and 
Mineralogical collections ave in a large building here, and 
are regarded as the finest in the world. There are speci- 



PAEIS. 651 

mens of all minerals, aerolites, earths. The preserved 
botanical specimens are of all climates, African and Pacific. 
Another very large building here is the Museum of Natural 
History, a collection of animals, skins of all Orders and 
Varieties of animated nature, stuffed so as to counterfeit 
life. Then into another Museum, containing skeletons of 
all animals, sea and land, — mummies, Egyptian and Peru- 
vian-monsters, preserved in spirits, some of these utterly 
horrible : also skeletons and skulls of the various races of 
men ; anthropological preparations in wax of all the various 
viscera. Man is a hideous animal when dead or malformed. 
To-day, we visited (travelers — Americans especially — 
soon make up traveling parties) the Bois du Boulogne — or 
"Woods of Boulogne — which consist of extensive grounds 
just outside the Barri^re de I'Etoile — a gate near the 
Triumphal Arch — laid out in avenues, walks, flower- 
gardens, groves, etc., in the most admirable manner. There 
are several hundreds of acres of these ornamental pleasure- 
grounds, and it is the great resort in fine weather for driv- 
ing, riding, or walking. All Paris comes out here to take 
the air. There are several small lakes with pleasure-boats, 
walks, borders adorned with flowers, white and graceful 
swans float on the calm waters ; there are artificial cataracts 
which you can go under, and artificial ruins which you 
cannot explore. A part of the grounds is enclosed, and 
within it you find reservoirs of water, in which are beauti- 
ful gold fish ; also theatres, restaurants, and splendid bands 
of music. This being the commencement of the Feast of 
Pr^ Catelan, there were great crowds, and I heard some fine 
music sweeping by like a chorus of lost angels. The route 
by the railway is very pleasant, the roadside being bordered 
with flowers in bloom, and ornamented with ivy. But 
again to the Hotel des Invalides and the Tomb of Napoleon. 
You go under the grand dome of the church, walking on 
its marble floor, and ascending a few steps to the left, in a 



652 PARIS. 

recess of tlie church, you gaze on the black coffin contain- 
ing the ashes of him who commanded in fifty pitched 
battles. His hat and sword are under a glass case near, 
and around stand numerous flags gained in his battles, the 
names of his great victories, Austerlitz, Wagram, etc., and 
the letter " N." for Napoleon, are also engraved in various 
places around. Immediately under the dome is the great 
circular crypt, with the red Finland granite sarcophagus, in 
which the body is to be placed. The High Altar back of 
the crypt is a splendid piece of workmanship, not unlike 
in style that of St. Peter's in Eome. Through the painted 
windows and the thin plates of alabaster, falls the yellow 
light, like an incessant shower of strange daylight. In 
the rear, are the tombs of Bertrand and Duroc, reposing 
near their master. Their tombs are in a chaste style, with 
no inscription but "Bertrand" on the one, and "Duroc" on 
the other. These were majestic men. Then at the extreme 
of the crypt, under the altar, are the simple and touching 
words from Napoleon's will : " I desire that my ashes may 
repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French 
people, whom I have loved so well." In the chapel adjoin^ 
ing, you see a vast number of flags riddled and torn with 
bullets, taken. in the battles of Napoleon from many nations ; 
and here are interred the hearts of many generals and 
counts of the first empire, with inscriptions respecting the 
battles they were in. One of them I noticed was in nearly 
all the battles of Napoleon, and the pompous enumeration 
closed with " Glory to God." The hotel is the hospital for 
superannuated soldiers, who, fat and lame, go about, act as 
guides, sell you pamphlets, mount guard about the Empe- 
ror's tomb, and relieve their post. One of them, Santini, a 
Corsican, has a little room near the tomb : he is its guardian. 
He looks exactly like a dog in his kennel ; and no wonder, 
for with that noble animal's attachment did he serve Na- 
poleon, being with him both at Elba and St. Helena. It is 



PAKis. 653 

a proud thing for these old soldiers that there is a Napoleon 
III. 

Yesterday, April 2d, being Good Friday, the Catholic 
churches are all occupied with dramatic representations of 
the mystic scenes of Eedemption. In St. Eoch, a fine 
church which I entered, there was, behind the altar, a scenic 
representation of Calvary, a rocky, blasted-looking hill, sur- 
mounted with a cross, above which were dark clouds, and 
around the base of which were beautiful flowers. This, as 
well as some other curious recesses, into which one could 
see, had ghostly representations of a dead Christ in marble 
or wax, and was bloody and awful-looking ; and seen by the 
light of innumerable small tapers, produce an imposing 
effect, and are gazed at by the Catholics with great devo- 
tional unction. 

We revisit Pr^ Catelan these days, in the Bois Bou- 
logne — all the world goes there — it is the great resort of 
the Parisians and foreigners. Foreign noblemen, with 
splendid coaches and six horses, and several out-riders in 
livery ; curious vehicles, costumes ; all the means that 
ingenuity can invent to exhaust wealth are there. The 
English nobility are here in great numbers at present 
with brilliant coats of arms on the panels of their car- 
riages, indicating their rank. Many of them are also on 
horseback, riding the most splendid, well-trained, and 
elegant horses to be seen anywhere in the world. The 
broad avenue of the Champs Elysees is crowded with car- 
riages — a stream of them on one side passing up, on the 
other down. They collect from all parts of the city to 
the Place de la Concorde, concentrate into the avenue, 
pass down it, about a mile long, then disembogue at the 
triumphal arch, or Barri^re de I'Etoile, or the '' Star Bar- 
rier," called thus because from it roads branch off in all 
directions like star rays. After irradiating the beautiful 
grounds of Bois Boulogne, they return to the city. All 

3e2 



654 PARIS. 

come out to see and to be seen — wliicli two chapters absorb 
Parisian life. It is a promiscuous throng certainly, for 
amidst such imperial and titled magnificence are doubtless 
as many gamblers, swindlers, thieves, prostitutes as in any 
other large crowd. But nothing of that appears on the 
surface. All are equal that can ride in a splendid carriage. 

The Champs Elysees, or Elysian Fields, are on each side 
of the avenue, consisting of extensive grounds planted with 
fine trees, having several out-door theatres, with an en- 
closure in front, furnished with seats and small tables 
before them. In the evening these are splendidly illumi- 
nated with fantastic gas-lights, and on a platform are seated 
elegantly -dressed dancing-girls, who sing, and represent va- 
rious caricatures, while you sit and sip your wine or ice- 
cream, or indulge in that most universal of all luxuries, a 
cup of French cofiee. Those not within the railing can 
enjoy the music and the scene gratis, and yoa only pay for 
your refreshments, of which you are always expected to 
partake. There are several of these places, besides any 
number of retail or traveling amusements moving about. 
All tastes can be gratified here, and the whole art of amuse- 
ment is exhausted. 

The crowd promenade about, or sit on the iron chairs 
alongside of the avenue. You pay a sou for a seat. 
About three in the afternoon, the cortege of the Prince Im- 
perial sweeps by, when the crowd tend toward the avenue 
to see him. He has some fifty or more lancers on horseback 
as his guard. They go out to the Bois Boulogne, and he 
amuses himself in a small, rural chateau, like any other 
child. Later in the evening the Empress comes along, 
leaving the Palace of the Tuileries. As she passes she 
bows to all who take off their hats to her, and she ap- 
pears to be regarded with great affection and is per- 
sonally popular, which the Emperor is not. She is a very 
pretty woman; but looks unhappy. Later in the evening 



PARIS. 655 

the Emperor rides out, with only two horses to his carriage, 
which he drives himself, and without any escort. He has 
generally one or two servants behind him in the carriage, 
and some friend sitting by his side. All take ofi' their hats 
. to him, and he bows, but with rather a reserve. He appears 
to see every thing and every person. As he approaches, 
the police, who are everywhere, draw near the corners of 
the avenue where he is to pass, and salute him. He does 
not drive furiously, but calmly, and sometimes, if there is 
a crowd of carriages, waits a little for them to clear away. 
He is evidently not afraid of any thing, and thinks his des- 
tiny encompasses him as a shield. 

On Easter Sunday, there is of course a great crowd in 
all the Catholic churches. This is the time to be in Kome, 
for on a given signal, St, Peter's is illuminated in about four 
seconds from top to bottom— that is on the night preceding 
Easter — said to be one of the grandest sights in the world. 
I was at Notre Dame, where High Mass was celebrated, 
which began by chanting, then the two grand organs took 
up some of the parts at various distances, which had a grand 
effect. There were many persons there, and the church is 
very grand and Gothic ; but the effect is diminished by the 
painting of the interior of the church, which is yellow, 
and unsuited in its general gaudy appearance to such a 
scene. At the Church of the Madeleine (originally designed 
by ISfapoleon, it is said, to be a temple to Fame,) which is 
remarkable among all the modern buildings of the world 
for its splendid Greek architecture — there was a splendid 
display of music at Yespers. Paris is, in general, not 
really so well built as London, taking both cities in general ; 
but London has no streets as fine as the Kue de Eivoli or 
the Boulevards, nor any chateaux like Tuileries, nor any 
parks like Champs Elysees, nor has it the middle-age gran- 
deur of some parts of Paris. The horse-chestnuts in the 
Tuileries gardens are being clad in the fresh, young, deli- 



656 PARi^. 

cious verdure of spring, and over tlieir summits rise tbe 
graceful-pointed spires of various churches. 

To-day, Monday, April 5th, was the ceremony of the in- 
auguration of the new Boulevard de Sebastopol, which is 
one of the works of the present Emperor. Large military 
detachments, guards of the city of Paris, and regiments^ 
paraded up and down the streets, taking stations at different 
points. The crowd was tremendous — there seemed to be 
men by the million. The Emperor, with a brilliant cortege 
of Marshals of France, all on horseback, and attended by 
an escort, went through the whole length of the new, 
broad, straight street which penetrates the heart of old 
Paris, inflicting dreadful devastation on those narrow, 
crooked streets, which Eugene Sue delighted to describe in 
his '^Mysteries of Paris." The Empress, in her carriage, 
bowed courteously to all — the Emperor seemed rather de- 
mure and imperious. The Emperor has not enough cordi- 
ality and heart in his composition to be popular. He is 
able, but he lacks the honhommie of Napoleon I. The one 
was adapted to found a throne, the other to conserve it. 
There were numerous flag-staffs at various distances along 
the streets, from which waved many flags, making a 
grand display. To-day I have visited several churches, 
one St. Eustatia, a fine church, where I heard part of a 
"Stabat Mater," one of Eossini's sublime compositions. 
The old composer, the greatest now living, resides in Paris, 
in a house near one of the Boulevards. It sounded as if 
the strains came from heaven. I also visited San Germain 
des Pr^s, with its columns, corridors, choirs, tombs, painted 
windows, carved pulpits. It is the oldest church perhaps 
in the city, being founded by Childebert, son and successor 
of Clovis, the first Christian King of France, A. D. 642. 
Such a date however or such an age does not astonish one 
who has gazed at Etruscan cities in Italy three thousand 
years old, and on the Phoenician ruins of Cumge. 



NAPOLEON III. 657 

A most grave question, doubtlesS; frequently obtrudes 
itself on the miind of the Eraperor Napoleon. Europe is 
the world — America may be, but is not now — Asia and 
Africa have been, but are not now — and in this world of 
Europe are but two parties : the party of the past and the 
party of progress — the party of the people and the party 
of the" potentates. The question is, "Which shall rule?" 
The Dynasties at present rule, and are in favor of the past, 
and satisfied with the present, and desire no change. The 
great people are, however, moving like a volcanic power 
from beneath. The spirit of Liberty is brooding over the 
ocean of humanity. All people are getting ready to be 
free and govern themselves. Some must ascend to it 
through convulsions ; but there is no step backward. The 
battle of the world will be fought in Italy. There are 
people in Europe who are slaves without knowing it — the 
Italians know it, and its iron is in their hearts ; but they 
want a man. The French Eevolution was no failure. The 
French governing power has been elective ever since, ex- 
cepting during the Eestoration of the Bourbons. No 
matter whether despotic or not, if people elect a despot, 
they have the right to do so. The single feature that 
Europe seeks, is not to have a good government, but to 
have a government, no matter of what kind, which they 
make for themselves. People will smile under a ton of 
despotism, if they make it themselves, when they would 
groan under an ounce of despotism imposed on them con- 
trary to their consent. 

This is the great work of the world. The American Ee- 
volution inaugurated it — the old Napoleon arose and 
reigned in consequence of it, and fell the moment he com- 
mitted the tremendous faux pas of forsaking the people, 
and allying himself with dynastied despotism. The present 
man takes up the long prostrate mission of the Napoleonic 
family. Should he espouse the popular cause-— should he 

42 



PAEIS. 

co-operate with reformable dynasties, as that of England 
and Enssia — should he assist in the destruction of those who 
reign by blood only, and not by consent, he will be the 
exponent of the age — he will live and prosper. Should he 
not, he will simply achieve an unparalleled historic damna- 
tion. But will he ? He will. His " thirty years of misery," 
to which he alludes in some of his former writings, were no 
useless apprenticeship to a throne. The temptations around 
him are tremendous, and seduced the genius of his uncle, 
but they will not overcome the cool and passionless sense 
of the nephew, who has learned a lesson most astonishing 
to European kings, that the good of their people is also 
the greatest good of the ruling powers. 

I have procured the requisite visas to my passport pre- 
paratory to leaving Europe — the police visa of Paris, which 
cost nothing, and the visa of the American Consul at Paris, 
which cost one dollar. To most Americans it appears some- 
what strange that our Consuls, who receive a salary from 
our own government, should be permitted to annoy travel- 
ers by charging for their signature to a passport this 
amount, which, though small in itself, amounts to a con- 
siderable sum in the aggregate of a long travel. Mr. Mason, 
our minister here, to whom I was introduced, is a corpulent, 
comfortable, well-to-do looking old gentleman, with a com- 
plaisant opinion about himself and of matters and things in 
general. 

To-day we visited Versailles, the residence of the old 
French kings anterior to the Kevolution, a most splen- 
didly useless investment of, it is said, two hundred millions 
of dollars. It is about sixteen miles from Paris, and is 
reckoned the most imposing and splendid royal residence 
in Europe, with its stately grounds and unequaled jets of 
water, fountains, lakes, gardens, parks. It is not used as 
a royal residence now, being converted into a museum for 
all the glories of France. It was begun by Louis XIV., in 



PARIS. 659 

1661. It is said lie did not like San Germain, another royal 
residence, because from it could be seen the spires of St. 
Benis, the royal burying-grounds. Approaching the palace, 
which is on a gentle eminence near the city of Versailles, 
now much reduced, containing however forty thousand 
inhabitants, though in the kingly times it had one hundred 
thousand, one enters a great stone-paved court-yard, sur- 
rounded by statues ; in the centre a splendid equestrian one 
of Louis XIV., in bronze ; we then enter grand old rooms, 
full of great pictures of battles, wars, sieges ; then into cor- 
ridors and halls of statues, in plaster, of tombs, kings, 
saints, cardinals ; again into halls of paintings of old 
French battles, the rooms all most splendid, pavements of 
cement or marble. You see effigies of kings lying dead in 
plaster — vain mortals trying to perpetuate features and 
form after death. These were the men of "^.he middle ages 
and of the Crusades, of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, 
and this is the place amidst these stony representations of 
their forms, tombs, architecture, etc., to study the history 
of earth's bloody past. Then into many grand rooms, full 
of interesting paintings. Liveried domestics or guards are 
in each room. After this into other rooms having statues 
of French kings, kneeling some — some standing — some in 
action as once — but all dead and famous now — poor human 
things that wanted to be immortal in marble. Then into 
other marble halls on the second floor, great statues of 
Charles Martel, Charlemagne, and many queens, lovely- 
looking things. After this again into other halls of paintings, 
tapestry, the latter fading — nothing but mosaic is imperish- 
able; then into rooms of more modern paintings, one of 
the siege of Rome in 1849, which is remarkable — the blue- 
gunpowder kind of light about it is finely executed. The 
unfortunate old city ought to be left to moulder in her 
grand desolation, and not have so modern a thing as gun- 
powder about it. Some of these paintings are very large. 



660 VERSAILLES. 

One representing the retreat from Moscow is very fine- 
Marshal Ney among the snows, and surrounded by frozen 
and perishing dead, is sublime. Then I saw many paint- 
ings of French revolutionary scenes. Napoleon in many 
battles as general, and finally as Emperor in his corona- 
tion robes; Josephine, and also Maria Louisia as Empress. 

I ascended another flight of stairs, where I entered rooms 
of portraits, of very many historic characters, that of 
Franklin, where are also statues in wood, — English, French, 
and Etruscan views. From the windows here, are splen- 
did views over the parks around the palace ; the ele- 
gantly arranged and aged trees, the avenues, lakes, walks, 
gardens; all a vastness and kingly loveliness, a profusion 
of the beautiful ; but all apparently going to neglect, for 
even the exchequer of Louis Napoleon is scarcely sufficient 
to keep up, and* in order, this monstrous extravagance of 
the Bourbon family. There are a great many rooms here 
of portraits. I heard the lonesome old clock strike the 
hour of twelve — a sort of wonder — for it is a very fussy, 
ingenious clock. It was made by King Louis XVI., who 
would have made, had he not been born a king, one of the 
first blacksmiths of the age. He was the king who assisted 
us in the Revolution, and who perished so miserably on the 
guillotine on the Place de la Concorde. Many of the por- 
traits represent very formal personages; others, ladies, 
perfectly beautiful — woman, that '' lovely, harmless thing," 
being well represented. After this, into many other halls 
with fine historical paintings, many of them ISTapoleonic 
scenes ; then I saw the beautiful chapel in the palace, in 
which the old kings of France heard service. I saw their 
seats, the beautiful paintings on the ceilings, and the grand 
altar ; then into the room where King Louis XIY. died. I 
saw the bed remaining now as then ; then into many and 
most grand halls of vast size : splendor, gold, gilding, ele- 
gance; mirrors, paintings, statues, etc., ball-rooms, dining 



PARIS. 661 

rooms, every thing that art, taste, and wealth could do, was 
here. Where are Louis XIIL, XIV., XY., and XYI. now f 
After this, into halls of all the French kings, from Phara- 
raond down to the present Emperor, extending over a space 
of 1300 years ; pictures, or assumed pictures of them, some 
of them of course deduced from coins or the likeness imagi- 
nary ; then into many halls of all the Marshals of France 
— these are grand halls of grim warriors, looking mighty 
from the canvas. Then into many halls of kings, queens, 
and members of various royal families in Europe, and 
several of our Presidents; and there are two of George 
Washington, who was a Marshal of France, created one 
that the Count de Rochambeau might serve under him. 
Windsor Palace is a small hunting-lodge compared with 
Versailles. These paintings are all of first-rate excellence 
by the best French masters ; though all are, of course, in- 
ferior to those of the Italian masters of the middle ages, 
lacking the something under the canvas the grand old 
masters could give. The palace consists of several wings 
and fagades. Up to the period of the Revolution, it was the 
constant residence of the French kings. During the Revo- 
lution, part of it — as also the Tuileries more recently — was 
converted into a hospital. Each day augments the riches 
of this splendid Museum. I then walked through the 
grounds around the palace, consisting of many acres, and 
containing two other splendid palaces, built for the mis- 
tresses of Louis XIV. The Orangery of the garden here 
IS considered the finest in Europe; the air in the evening is 
filled with the delicious odor of four thousand orange, 
and lemon, and citron trees. The great and small water- 
works or fountains in the park, are the most remarkable of 
the kind in the world. The river Eu, which ran some 
distance from Versailles, was turned so as to come here. 
It cost the lives of thousands, however, to do it, as the 
exhalations generated a malaria which destroyed thirty- 

3f 



662 PARIS. 

six thousand soldiers engaged in digging. I returned in 
the evening to the city by the railway on the right bank of 
the Seine. 

Yesterday, I visited several places ; one, the beautiful new 
church San Clotilde, with its pointed spires, and its grand 
and tasteful Gothic interior. Also the Jews' Synagogue, 
w^hich is a building utterly unlike a Christian church. 
There is a kind of chanting service here every Friday 
evening at sunset; but no crosses, no Christ, no Yirgin 
Mary about it. It has some very rich candlesticks, similar 
in appearance to the recorded form of the great one of 
Solomon's temple, the form of which is sculptured on the 
Arch of Titus at Rome. Achille Fould, the Emperor's 
Secretary of State, is a Jew. The men sit below, the 
women in the first gallery above ; the scholars and young 
persons in the second gallery. I saw the seats of the Roths- 
childs. There is a French Protestant church in the city 
called "The Oratoire." I heard a discourse here apparently 
quite as abusive of the Pope as one would wish to hear 
anywhere, and utterly defiant and contemptuous toward 
the Catholic religion. They appear to be Lutherans, and 
talk as boldly as the Huguenots. The attention given was 
very good ; there was also a Sunday-school, where the chil- 
dren appeared to be very intelligent. There are said to be 
sixty thousand Protestants residing in Paris. There is an 
excellent bookstore of Protestant works in the Rue de 
Rivoli, where the Bible and many Protestant works are 
sold — as, under the government of the Emperor, all religions 
are tolerated. The service in The Oratoire is in French. 
There is also an American chapel, and then there is a Wes- 
leyan chapel. In these, there is Protestant service, some- 
times in English and sometimes in French, and they are 
very well attended. Besides, there is the regular English 
or Episcopal service in the Rue Marbeuf, frequented by 
English and travelers, and which is crowded every Sunday. 



PAEis. 663 

The Catholic religion will undoubtedly sink under these 
inflaences in its midst, or be retained as an elegant or 
ancient kind of worship by those whose early feelings are 
enlisted in it, and do not examine into its assumed divine 
original. But the French people appear to begin to think 
there is perhaps something real in religion, and to want 
something more than the Catholic devotion without know- 
ledge. Many, if not all, cannot discriminate that it is pos- 
sible that there may be a Christianity that is not Catholi- 
cism, and rejecting the latter as absurd and too legendary, 
confound it with Christianity, and rejecting both, become 
infidels. But the feeling of the mind for something reli- 
gious, will eventually result in an embrace of the truth. 
The Chappelle Expiatoire, near the Madeleine church, is a 
solemn place. It is a little church or chapel, built in a 
garden, where were buried privately the remains of Louis 
XVI. and his unfortunate and lovely queen Marie Antoi- 
nette, after their inhuman butchery by the demoniac actors 
of the Revolution. They were religiously watched here for 
many years by a zealous adherent of the Bourbons ; and 
on the restoration of that family, this chapel was built over 
the place, and the remains removed, for kingly interment, 
to St. Denis. The Swiss Guard that died defending them, 
are buried around, and there is service here every day in 
memory of the unfortunate monarch, who fell upon evil 
times, and was too weak to reign and rule, and had to atone 
for the faults and extravagance of his ancestors. The pine 
and cedar trees planted around this place, give it a mourn- 
ful religious air. 

The pleasant and best-looking part of Paris is near the 
Madeleine church. The most aristocratic quarter is that 
part called San Germain. It is here the old nobility live 
in stately palaces, built all in nearly the same style, around 
an inner courtyard, into which one enters by an iron gate. 
I saw the Prince Imperial to-day ; he appears to be a plea- 



6Q4: PAKis. 

sant; lively boy. With his nurses and two footmen in 
attendance, he played for some time in the gardens of the 
Tuileries, a large crowd collecting at the railing. He has 
two nurses, one of whom speaks English, and the other 
French, thus he will speak both languages, while his mother 
being Spanish, will enable him to have three vernaculars. 
He certainly occupies an interesting position ; the hopes of 
the Napoleonic dynasty centre on him. The scenes, these 
lovely days in Paris, are of the most animating description ; 
the thousands of children in the gardens of the Tuileries 
about two o'clock, engaged in all sorts of amusements, play- 
ing, dancing under the trees, the sweet scents of the flowers, 
older persons reading, talking, or promenading, the beauti- 
ful French girls who, after all that has been said in regard 
to them, are just as good and moral, perhaps, as any others, 
neither virtue nor vice being exclusively the property of any 
one clime ; then the Imperial cortege, sweeping by, all make 
Paris the most merely agreeable place in the world. The 
Emperor looks very much like the ordinary portraits of him. 
The expression on his face at times seems to be as if he thought 
himself ill-treated in not being an emperor for so long. 

We visited, to-day, the Legislative halls. On the piazza 
is written, " Corps Legislatif. " it might as well be "corpse," 
as the will of the Emperor, of course, prevails wherever 
and whenever he wishes it to do so, and only through 
policy allows the other branches occasionally to have their 
own way. 

Yesterday, I visited the Pantheon, one of the finest 
churches in the city, in the style of the Greek cross, with 
four rows uniting in a common centre, over which is an 
enormous dome, composed of three cupolas. The Eepublic 
decreed it should no longer be a church — for during that 
Reign of Terror there were no churches,— but be called the 
French Pantheon, and that the remains of their great men 
should be interred here. It is now restored to the Catholic 



PARIS. 665 

worship. Within its dark crypt, into wliicli we descended 
with guides and lanterns, are many tombs, and saw those of 
Kousseau and Voltaire. The latter has an inscription on 
it, " To the Manes of Yoltaire," as though they could not 
believe in his having a soul, they were satisfied to consider 
he had " manes." The echoes in this dark crypt are won- 
derful. The paintings in the Pantheon (they are frescoes,) 
are fine : one represents Glory embracing l^apoleon. Near 
the PaDtheon, is the very ancient church of San Genevieve, 
and there is in it a very ancient tomb, surrounded with 
small lights, and almost covered with votive offerings by 
those who were cured by a pilgrimage to this, her shrine. 
Her remains, of which many long stories are told, lay here 
for nearly one thousand years ; they are now in the Pan- 
theon, and occasionally perform miracles yet. Devotees 
kneel before the tomb, and a fat old priest sits by and sells 
holy candles, which they light and place around the tomb, 
and hang thereon pictures and charms, and imagine them- 
selves greatly benefited by the operation. Around, you see 
many inscriptions such as, '' I prayed to St. Genevieve and 
I was restored." The church has one side aisle, separated 
from the nave by columns ; the stone carvings, tracery, 
pulpits, gallery, are all very old and middle-age looking. 
There are painted windows, with the glass which was 
broken in the revolutionary times restored in a modern 
manner. The churches in Paris all suffered from revolu- 
tionary violence ; and the half-effaced words, " Liberty, 
Egalite, Fraternity," the watch-words of the Keign of Terror, 
may yet be seen on them. The "Street of Hell," leading to 
the Catacombs, is not far from here, — Paris delighting in a 
street of that name as well as Kome. 

To-day we have visited Fontainebleau, distant from Paris 
thirty-eight miles, by railway. It is one of the royal 
palaces; and here dwelt Napoleon and Josephine. The 
country is very beautiful in the soft light of spring — its 

3 f2 



666 PARIS. 

verdure and blossoms. The Seine wanders t"hrougli it ; and 
there are many old villages on its banks, among the green 
fields, with their churches and palaces, avenues of planted 
trees, through the wheat and vine fields, where, on the hills 
and plains, seemed to be a happy population.. The primi- 
tive forests one sees in America of course are not here ; and 
it is said the shade afibrded in some places by the trees 
is no disadvantage to the grain, which is thus made to grow 
more slowly and of better quality, though smaller in size. 
The Palace covers a large space of ground, but is rather 
low, according to modern Parisian style, which is to build 
houses of great height and with, numerous stories, and 
smaller stories, called entresols, intervening. The Palace is 
partly of brick and partly of stone, with extensive grounds 
around, lovely shades, groves, promenades, and fine lakes, 
with fish in them. At the foot of the grand stone staircase 
leading to the principal vestibule, I stood on the spot where 
Napoleon took his final and most aifecting adieu of the 
shattered but devoted remnant of the Old Gruard after the 
battle of Waterloo, while the old, hardy soldiers stood 
around weeping. All are gone now, however — soldiers 
and emperor are alike in dust. The Palace consists of low 
ranges of buildings, two or three stories high. It was prin- 
cipally built by F.rancis I. My two friends and myself em- 
ployed a guide, as we spent much of the day in this Palace. 
There was an appearance of comfort and a feeling of enjoy- 
ment pervading this place superior to that of any palace I 
have seen. We went through the comfortable and pleasant 
suite of rooms looking out on the lake, in which Napoleon 
confined the Pope, Pius YII. The Pope was prisoner here 
about three years, and Napoleon attempted to wring from 
him in vain a cession of his temporal authority; then into 
other rooms, in which he and Josephine lived ; and after- 
ward he and Maria Louisa resided, and where the present 
Emperor and Empjess reside a part of the summer. The 



PARIS. 667 

bed-rooms and beds are most splendid, witb silk hangings; 
oaken floors, carved mantles of marbles of various kinds, 
paintings, and tapestry. We were in throne-rooms with 
gilded chairs, reception-rooms, chapels, old and modern 
halls of paintings, the room in which Louis XIII. was born, 
and another small room, in which was the table on which 
Napoleon signed his abdication. The Emperor's bed-room 
remains as he left it ; his bath-room also. Some of these 
rooms have roofs or ceilings of walnut wood, the walls 
richly panneled, carvings, trophies, devices. In one of the 
rooms is a most splendid, full-length, painting of Napoleon 
in his robes of satin. It is probably the best representation 
of the Emperor that now exists. It is certainly the most 
characteristic one I have seen. It is by David, one of the 
most eminent of French painters. It has the emperor's 
bright, bluish-gray eyes, his large head, splendid forehead 
and empressement. He looks like a self-composed, self-reliant, 
lonely and able power, with whom to will and to accomplish 
were as nothing. There are several busts of him in marble 
around. We then entered rooms of Francis I., Henry lY., 
and other places. The present Emperor — the Napoleon of 
Peace — is restoring this Palace, and improving it. The 
Gallery of Diana is a most splendid corridor, decorated 
with paintings. Just below it, now shut up, is where an 
Italian marquis was murdered by three assassins, hired by 
the Queen of Sweden, the latter being at that time the guest 
of Louis Xni. The wings of the Palace inclose six courts. 
The grounds around the Palace embrace about thirty thou- 
sand acres, and are intersected with roads in all directions, 
and it abounds in legends. At one place the spectre of a 
black huntsman appears ; under various trees here, sat and 
played various French monarchs when children. Here, as 
at Versailles, are numerous soldiers. 

To-day I visited General Lafayette's tomb, Eue Picpus, 
No. 35, in the garden of a convent, among the old French 



668 PAEis. 

nobility — the Montmorencies, De Roliaiis, etc. His grave, 
with those of his wife, and daughter, and son, are next to 
the ivy and yew-grown high wall which separates the 
remains of those who were promiscuously and darkly hud- 
dled together, the victims of the Eeign of Terror — about 
two thousand eight hundred of whom, among them a son 
of General Lafayette, were thrown here altogether; and 
Mass is said for them in the adjoining church once a 
year, when only the drear door, leading to the otherwise 
unseen cemetery, is opened. Lafayette wished to be buried 
as near to this wall as possible, in memory of his son, who, 
w4th the others there, rest without tombs. The tombs are 
plain, consisting of simple marble slabs on low brick walls. 
The Marquis has all his titles on his tomb, as is usual, but 
otherwise the inscription is very plain and modest. Few 
men on the page of history have left really a better and more 
virtuous page in the history of the past than the Marquis 
de la Fayette. JSTone were purer in intention than he; 
none better patriots, or less selfish. With the history of 
our own institutions his memory is indissolubly entwined. 
The advantage he was to our cause can never be repaid or 
estimated. It was an act of the heart, that wrought like an 
army in our favor in Europe. His whole conduct toward 
us "was utterly unsullied. His military services in JSTew 
York and "Virginia were of no mean order, and attracted 
the applause of all military men. If afterward the measures 
he proposed in France were unsuccessful, it was because 
France was not good enough for the man and the measures ; 
and he had learned in America too fast and too much for 
France. He was utterly incorruptible, and ISfapoleon was 
nonplussed by the phenomenon, in France, of a strictly 
honest man, who was to be seduced by neither power nor 
money. Accursed be the American who shall ever cease 
to reverence this " friend to America," at a time when she 
most needed friendship ! The tombs are at the extremity 



PARIS. 669 

of a large garden orcliard ; and few places have seemed to 
me so tranquilly sad and so out of the world as this quiet 
convent churchyard, though in the heart of Paris. It is sur- 
rounded by high walls^ and the appearance of every thing 
is calm and heart-like. The custode of the gate sells you 
pictures of the tomb, " dedicated," as the inscription states, 
" to Americans." No people have such an interest in this 
man as they. His past belongs to us, and the claim is 
thus acknowledged even by the French. In the garden, 
near the street, is the clean and pretty church of the con- 
vent, where I saw the young vailed and hooded nuns kneel- 
ing in devotion. Some of them were very pretty, and stole 
glances at us from under their vails. Theirs is a calm, de- 
votional, useless, negative kind of life; but it is passable, 
they are not more unhappy than many who are in the 
world. The convent becomes a home, a refuge to them ; 
and if some of the higher and more lovely feelings of woman 
are crushed out and have no scope, the absorbing supersti- 
tion of the Catholic religion enters into their souls and be- 
comes all they have lost, and the dreadful world without 
passes on unheeded and unheeding. The pictures in this 
church are good. The shrines around the garden to the 
Virgin are very numerous ; and our old priest, who acted 
as guide, bowed most lowly to each one as he passed by. 
Genuflexion is a great part of Catholicism. Near here is 
the Barri^re du Trone, with a large open space next to the 
city, where were all kinds of miscellaneous amusements of 
this volatile, amusement-loving people — puppet shows, danc- 
ing, music, the most motley collection of strolling players, 
gipsies, Brazilians, etc., ever seen. Each department was 
in a little temporary tent, with platforms in front, where 
stood the musicians to draw the crowd, who stood around 
to enter within the curtains. Every thing that could be 
imagined, sacred or profane, was enacted within. The 
Crucifixion itself was dramatized and performed, or repre- 



670 PARIS. 

sented, in one of them. This would have rather surprised 
us in a Catholic country, if we could be surprised by any 
of the modifications of mankind, and had not long ago 
ascertained that the Catholic religion, in practice, is chiefly 
a grand system, or establishment, whereby many people 
make a living. Some get into power and authority, and live 
in idleness, and that the rest cling to it because they know 
no better, and man must worship something in some way. 
Notwithstanding what has been said by some, I doubt ex- 
tremely whether Catholics, in that respect, where they claim 
pre-eminence, devotion and reverence, have as much of them 
as Protestants. In many of the fine paintings I saw at 
Bome, even in the Pope's palace, God himself is frequently 
introduced in the form of an old, bearded man ; and a dry- 
looking scene called Heaven, in which he and the Son are 
seated, is represented as being enlivened by the approach 
of a lovely, fresh-looking female — the Yirgin — coming to 
be crowned : this, too, by no less than such Catholic paint- 
ers as Michael Angelo and Guido. The truth is, that 
religion and true intellectual enlightenment go hand-in- 
hand 5 and after all the allowances made for differences of 
climate and customs. Protestantism, notwithstanding the 
external, sensuous elevation of the Catholics, must be re- 
garded as impregnated with more of the real feeling of. 
adoration and worship than its ancient rival. The whole 
world of showdom seemed to have run wild at this place- 
all sorts of little and low specialties of fun in vast activity 
and energy — there were premature women, mixed races, 
dwarfs ; the whole science of fun parcelled out amongst an 
infinity of retailers. The crowd moved from one stall to 
another, according as the excitement promised. Never 
have I seen people work so hard to be amusing as these 
mountebanks, and prematurely aged children, who danced 
and " did fun." It looked as if some infant school of devils 
in hell had come up to have a holiday in Paris. Eeturning 



PARIS. 671 

toward our hotel, we passed the now open space where once 
stood the dread Bastile of France, the old State Prison. It has 
long been utterly destroyed, being attacked by a mob about 
the commencement of the French Eevolution, who levelled 
it to the ground, and gave the key to General Lafayette, 
who gave it to General Washington, and it yet hangs in 
one of the rooms at Mount Vernon. The place on which it 
stood is now a large, open space, generally greatly crowded, 
and in the centre rises the Column of Julv. This com- 
memorates the taking of the Bastile, and the deaths of those 
who fell in July, 1830, during the three days, when 
Charles X., the last of the Bourbons, was expelled, and 
Louis Phillipe, his cousin of the Orleans family, called to 
the throne. It is of bronze, has an interior staircase of two 
hundred and five steps to ascend to the top, whence is a 
great view, more than one hundred and fifty feet high. It 
is surmounted on top by a statue of brass, a winged Mer- 
cury, standing on one foot, intended to represent the Genius 
of Liberty. The French are a great people! Some of them 
want liberty, a few of them deserve it. And what people 
have done more for it than they ! What people have torn 
down so strongly-guarded a state prison; guillotined the 
last of the longest dynasty in Europe ; proclaimed them- 
selves free from God — a hereafter ! then threw themselves 
into the arms of a military upstart, who led them as con- 
querors into all the capitals of Europe! Expelled the Bour- 
bons thrice, only to forge for themselves stronger fetters ! 
But tyranny is sweet when it is of our own making. The 
way to tyrannize over people is to get their own consent 
first. Then you can do any thing with them. The blind, 
chained monster, has to be amused by having an apple 
occasionally thrown to it. 

To-day, I visited the grave of Josephine at Eeuel, about 
ten miles from Paris by railway. The weather is of late 
most delightful, the warm sun is bringing on the vegetation 



672 PARIS. 

witli great rapidity. The trees in tlie gardens of the Tuil- 
cries are assuming their summer garniture of green. In 
Keuel, a small village; old, clirty, drowsy, and dull, is a 
church about two hundred years old, large and recently re- 
stored, in which is a tomb, the most conspicuous object in 
the church, to this most amiable, unfortunate woman, and 
yet most highly fortunate in being the ancestress of a throne 
(Louis Napoleon is her grandson), and the wife of an em- 
peror, though not the mother of a prince. Compensation 
comes around at last, though one must wait for it long and 
sometimes die. The race of Josephine has the throne and 
not that of Napoleon. The divorced wife surpasses in 
glory the proud Archduchess of Austria. The tomb is 
large and of beautiful white marble. There is a statue of 
Josephine in a kneeling posture, very expressive, and pro- 
bably very much like her. It is on the tomb, which is a 
simple monument. On the side of it, are the words — " To 
Josephine, from Eugene and Hortense." Hortense, the 
mother of the present Emperor, is also buried here. Mal- 
maison, the place where Josephine lived after the divorce, 
is a country seat near this village. Here, then, rest the 
remains of her on whose birth the star of empire and 
destiny shone. She died in May, 1814, when Napoleon 
was at Elba. Her countenance, according to the statue, 
indicates a true and earnest woman, a deep sorrow and 
regret, and yet graciousness, dignity, and resignation. 
There is a whole history in the face of the statue, and this 
American lady (she was born in the island of Martinico, in 
the West Indies) was doubtless a gentle, amiable, and good 
woman. 

This evening, I visited the Italian Theatre. The piece 
performed was Macbeth (in Italian). Madame Eistori per- 
formed to vast admiration the part of Lady Macbeth. One 
scene, that in which Macbeth as king, and Lady Macbeth 
as queen, retire from the banqueting hall after the feast, 



PAEIS. 67S 

during which the ghost of Banquo rose at Macbeth's idle 
vaunt, was most pitiable. It was perfection ; nothing could 
more astonishingly display the remorse and misery of 
crime-gotten power. Nothing could exceed it. Also Lady 
Macbeth's appearance as a somnambulist, was most awful 
and fearful. " Out, damned spot !" as she dreamed she was 
washing her hands, and " Yet here is a spot," and other parts, 
almost affected the audience as realities. She was called 
back three times after some of these scenes. She was well 
sustained by other good performers, all beyond the reach 
of criticism. But Madame Kistori surpassed all. She is a 
large woman, and rather imposing and fine-looking than 
handsome, with much of the woman about her. Nothing 
could show more awfully the consequences of crime than 
the last scene in which she appeared. 

To-day, Saturday, April 17th, I have been strolling along 
the river walls. These, in many places, are covered with 
books, the cheap literature of France and other countries. 
It is not uncommon to recognize an English or American 
work here. One of these I have seen translated into 
French and sold here. Mrs. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, 
one of these works which, ministering to a depraved and 
excited feeling, ride upon it like a hobby-horse, attain an 
ephemeral popularity, and then sink into merited oblivion 
— the work and author equally execrable. Then visited 
the construction of the new Boulevards, where almost 
whole old streets of cities are thrown down to build new 
ones, and interior walls that had seen no light for centuries 
suddenly find themselves on the side of a splendid and new 
street. It was the object of the first Napoleon to make Paris the 
most splendid city in the world, and he began many plans 
which his wars and his downfall prevented him from com- 
pleting. Napoleon III. is in possession of his plans ; and if 
he do not bankrupt France by the expense, will achieve 
wondrous results. It looks as if a baffled storm had tried 
43 8 G 



674 PARIS. 

to get througli tlie city — the old chinmeys broken down — 
the walls, fragments of houses and ruins generally, out of 
which is to spring the " Boulevard de Sebastopol." I saw 
and entered the antique looking '' Hotel de Cluny," full of 
things of the middle ages — cabinets and drawers of carved 
oak and ebony — paintings on wood of old church scenes, 
fading tapestry, beds of long ago, antique fire-places, armor 
of old heroes, family relics, Venitian mirrors, etc., all in 
this place. Then into some Roman ruins near it, carefully 
preserved from age to age, called Baths of Constantine, or 
those of Julian the Apostate, both of whom resided here, 
when France was a Roman province under the name of 
Gaul ; these remind one of Rome— the same blind arches 
and massive strength of Roman ruins — the vaulted rooms, 
underground prison-like apartments, in which excavations 
are now going on, and where are found broken marble statues. 
The ivy clings around the massive masonry, and some of the 
walls enclose a little green garden in the middle of those 
ruins, where are trees and birds — gray-headed, hoary an- 
tiquity — the world past and the world present. I saw also 
the ''Latin quarter" of the city, where the principal schools 
and colleges are; the medical colleges, that of St. Louis, 
the Sorbonne, with the great, old, enclosed and paved quad- 
rangles, the extensive library of St. Genevieve. I also 
entered the very old church of St. Gervais, saw its paint- 
ings, its priests in white robes chanting the old masses, and 
occasionally their deep Amens, and their kneelings. Then 
I visited Notre Dame, and ascended one of its towers 
by the interior stone staircase. This, the Metropolitan 
Church, being in the centre of the island of Notre Dame 
and in the heart of the ancient city, a most rare view is 
afforded all over Paris, the two islands in the river, the 
windings, scenes and bridges on the latter, far below one — 
the triumphal arches and the columns to Napoleon — the 
hills and forts around Paris; the human, hurrying life be- 



low, seen from this great elevation, looks more objectless 
than the scenes about an ant-hill. The roof of the churcb. 
is of plates of lead, as is the case with most of the churches 
in Paris. The great and well-known bell, which has often 
sounded as a tocsin in Paris, is in the southern tower of the 
church, and is said to weigh thirty-three thousand pounds ; 
the clapper weighs twenty-three hundred. The sound of 
this bell is one of the things to be remembered. It is sub- 
lime. 

How delightful the Champs Elysdes these pleasant afteir- 
noons — the stream of promenaders, ladies and gentlemen 
of all nations, under the fresh, young, leafy trees. 'Tis the 
centre of the world for fashion and display. The square 
or gardens of the Palais Royal seem to be somewhat fre- 
quented by rather an inferior grade, (except the Passage 
d'Orleans); the Gardens of the Tuileries are the resort of 
nurses and children ; those of the Luxembourg are rather 
too much in the ancient part of the city, and resorted to 
by students and scholars. But the Champs Elysees and 
the Bois de Boulogne seem the haunts of the elegant and 
pretentious, though of course there are some of all classes 
in each place. The roads, streets, avenues and walks here 
are swept and watered every hour or two, so that the air is 
always cool and pleasant. And in the evening come 
by, through it, the splendor and pageant of an empire, the 
Prince Imperial, with thirty horsemen before and thirty 
behind, each with lances on which are waving little red 
flags. He is with his nurse in a carriage and four fine 
horses. He has been taught to bow gracefully and wave 
his hand to the multitudes who crowd around the sides of 
the streets to see him and see the hope of Napoleon's Em- 
pire. He is a pleasant, dignified-looking child. He goes 
out every afternoon, about three o'clock, to take the air in 
Bois Boulogne. His mother, the very pretty, somewhat 
pale, and rather sad-looking, but gentle Eugenie, nodding 



676 PARIS 

to all on the side of the street, comes by later, in a splendid 
coach-and-four, with another escort. She is probably not 
a very intellectual woman — the cares of empire may be too 
heavy for her. She looks more like one who would delight 
in a pretty little cottage by the sea-side, and take strolls 
along the hills with an admirer, than an Empress. To be a 
monarch is without doubt a bore and an unnatural condi- 
tion ; and it is astonishing any one could be found who 
would submit to be so imposed on as to be obliged to gov- 
ern thirty-six millions of people, as the French Emperor 
does, who could get rid of such trouble. Later, the Emperor 
comes along, with two horses, driving himself, and without 
an escort, be-whiskered, fierce and destiny-looking, and 
very much be-moustachied. He looks as if he would rather 
be Emperor of France than any thing else, like Sancho 
Panza, Don Quixotte's squire, who being advised to be a 
duke, rejected it and would not be any thing else than an em- 
peror. The Emperor is an able and vigorous ruler, has 
a subtle intellect, is unscrupulous and competent — will 
never be popular, but is the best ruler ever France had — is 
profound enough to see that the good of his people and the 
usefulness and advantage to them of his government, are 
the best securities of his own power. He will selfishly 
pursue good. He is introducing a new era among mon- 
archs in Europe, and is setting them the example of doing 
something more than merely drowsily and formally reign- 
ing by "divine right." He is rejuvenating the old world 
and popularizing monarchy. Sooner or later there will 
come a terrible contest between the monarchy of the old 
world and the democracy of the new, for which we are fear- 
fully unprepared. All Europe is fortified and full of sol- 
diers. We have no soldiers, but we have the best material 
in the world for making soldiers. Monarchy will go down 
in that war ; but it will die hard. We have citizens and 
they have soldiers ; we have people and they have priuces. 



PARIS 677 

In the hands of one who understands how to govern us, we 
are the best military material in the world. The French 
Emperor does, in many respects, interfere with the freedom 
of the press. Perhaps he thinks people have no more 
right to say or write whatever their passions or prejudices 
may prompt than to do^ whatever their feelings may indi- 
cate. With us, the licentiousness of the press is an evil 
which is allowed to correct itself— the freedom of the press 
having reduced the press to contempt. In Europe an irrit- 
able and ignorant populace might be excited to revolution 
and violence by inflammatory articles. In America, except 
among a few, people are too intelligent to receive passively 
their opinions from transitory ephemeral newspapers and 
magazines conducted by weaklings and witlings. These 
rave, stamp and censure each other, and we look coolly and 
contemptuously on. Blood-and- thunder articles are written 
at which no one pales but the puerile puppy that produces 
it. When they attempt to be wise, we grow concerned 
about their health ; when they would be witty, we sympa- 
thize with them ; when they would be critical, we feel dis- 
posed to inquire into their sanity, though their self-satisfied 
complacency and audacious assumptions almost lead us to 
doubt, whether, if they be human, ive are sane, or would 
■wish to be so. In other countries, the very fact of the 
press having a censorship is a testimony of, and a tribute 
to, its power. It may be considered, and the exceptions are 
few, that the press is generally venal, time-serving, a mere 
caterer to individual profit, and a follower of public preju- 
dice rather than a leader of popular virtue. In a majority 
of cases, the government may be supposed to be in the right 
rather than an individual press, having greater facilities for 
knowing the right, greater interests in doing right, and 
being above all, will be less accessible to prejudice against 
a part. It may admit of a doubt whether inundating the 
whole country with such a litter of literature, wherein the 

3 g2 



Iiorrible is exhaused and no analytical or critical diserimi- 
Hation is perceptible, written hj persons whose good or bad 
opinion of a book may be gained or lost for one dollar and a 
quarter, whose highest attempts only reach a stilted and af- 
fected imitation of Sir Walter Scott's lords and ladies^ — yes, 
it may well be doubted whether such literature is a public 
blessing, and whether the time spent in reading such bal- 
derdash and bagatelles, might not be better employed with 
older and abler works. Authors in America are becoming 
booksellers, and are writing books that will sell, and 
meanly pandering to sectional excitements or lustful lazi- 
ness, making money out of the worst feelings of human 
nature. The great, old, heroic time of authorshij), when 
irnen thought and wrote, has passed, and it has become a 
trade, when the question is not — *'Is it honest, true, or 
right?" but " Will it pay?" " Will it ride on the wave of 
some popular excitement long enoi^gh to sell ?" But our 
way is probably the best. By giving these pen-people rope 
enough, they will hang themselves. 

To-day I saw the Emperor and Empress riding out together 
in a carriage, passing along the Eue de Eivoli in front of 
the Hotel Meurice. She appears to great advantage beside 
liim — he is ugly and coarse and firm-looking, with great, 
smooth, black moustaches extending like thorns from eacti 
side of his mouth. His countenance is somewhat pale and 
thought-furrowed, with a somewhat sly and furtive notice 
of every thing about, which he seems to see without look- 
ing at it, and to notice without any act of his eye. He cour- 
teously raises his hat whenever passing the crowd, which 
always collects at each end of the two passages lead- 
ing from the Tuileries to the streets. Sometimes he comes 
out on the side next to the Seine, sometimes on the Rue de 
Bivoli. He always raises his hat to the soldiers on guard 
at the various entrances to public places, who of course 
present arms as he passes. To-day I met with some friends 



PARIS. 679 

with whom we traveled in Italy and climbed Yesuvius, 
little Flora among them, just returning from Germany. It 
is pleasant to renew acquaintances in traveling with whom 
one has spent pleasant hours and who are connected in me- 
mory with scenes of classic and historic interest. We 
visited the Louvre, and gazed long on its gem, Murillo's 
painting of the '' Immaculate Conception." Murillo was 
born at Seville in Spain, in 1618, died 1682 — this is said 
to be his best work. At the sale of Marshal Soult's effects 
this painting was purchased for one hundred and twenty- 
five thousand dollars. Some persons, however, do not like 
it — even pahiters of acknowledged excellence differ about 
its merits, as they always do. She has around her, as it 
were, a cataract of angels ; but her face is that of a gentle 
spirit, not a strong one, wearied and broken with earth, 
and turning to heaven with an earnest confidingness. No 
painting here, even among so many fine ones, seems to me 
to have so much expressiveness. From this splendid hall, in 
which are the chief works of the Louvre, opens a gallery 
called the Long Gallery, which must be nearly one fhou- 
sand feet long, or nearly as long as the great gallery of the 
Vatican. It is lined on each side with many most interest- 
ing paintings of all schools and ages, and they are admir- 
ably illuminated by light from above. The French assert 
this to be the finest collection of paintings in any single gal- 
lery in the world. The chef d'oeuvres of the world are not 
in, however — they are where they rightly belong — in Italy. 
We went into several other museums in the Louvre — saw 
the great winged monsters in stone, from Assyria and Nine- 
veh — then through the very singular collection of Chinese 
curiosities, those also from central Africa, both looking 
like the dehris of a lost civilization, and consisting of very 
numerous articles of ingenious handicraft and manufacture, 
implements of war, arrows, vessels, vases, porcelain, things 
that convince us, especially with regard to the Chinese, that 



680 PARIS. 

the world does not get any older or wiser, but that indivi- 
dual nations do, or rather all ages are, at all times, in the 
world. How lovely are the scenes in Paris this fine 
weather. The grove in the Tuileries Gardens has be- 
come a deep shade, through which, during the day, rove 
the multitude, or sit under the trees at work, — women 
knitting or sewing, or men reading, — children at play 
around. European nations spend more of their time in the 
open air than we do. The Rue de Rivoli, with its thou- 
sands of arcades, in which the houses are built ; and on 
the other side the gilt-tipped iron railing of the Tuileries 
Gardens, in which at night stroll the silent sentinels to 
guard that approach to the palace — the moonlight on the 
tall trees, over which are seen stately spires of churches 
piercing the skies, the strollers, carriages, etc., all render 
Paris a panorama of ardent, joyful, human life. 

To-day, I have been in the " Jardin des Plantes." It con- 
tains nearly a hundred acres. It has large level plats of 
flowers and plants which are most beautifully arranged, 
and *in regular scientific detail. It has artificial hillocks, 
whence are most beautiful views — avenues of horse chestnuts 
and pines — a vast spreading cedar of Lebanon. Through 
it are constantly promenading, children, students, strangers. 
In the Museum of Minerals, specimens of all the wonders, 
beauties, and curiosities of earth's interior have been de- 
posited. The attention wearies with admiration at the 
variety. The Botanical specimens here are very numerous; 
there are various kinds of wood from all parts of the world. 
No place could be so admirable for study as this. There 
are remains of all periods of earth's merely geological 
history here; leaves from the library of all her strata. 
The earth has written her history in herself from the first 
commencement of animal life, and long before, up to the 
present moment. The art of type-setting is not the only 
printing. Every change, every action, prints itself, and 



PARIS. 681 

leaves impressions ; the learning is there, could we but read 
it. Earth had big-animal periods — shell-life periods; and 
we live on the debris of external creations, this being the 
man-period, for there is no time in eternity — there is nothing 
but the me and the not me. There are the remains of 
animals found in rocks here, and many things showing that 
the earth was built up gradually. These treasures of. Geol- 
ogy, Botany, and animated nature, are admirably arranged 
in different stages^ ages, or stories in progression, from the 
rude gneiss or rough granite rocks of the primitive or very 
first hardening of chaos, up through all intervening rocks 
to the animal life, then through all stages of animals having 
that motive organization called life, beginning with some 
headless rude monsters, or having a stomach only, and 
whose remains are found only in rocks. Then there are 
collections of all rocks composing the crust of the globe, 
following the order of their position, commencing with the 
lowest, then to the alluvial periods, and then to the modern 
age, human remains being found only in the very last age 
or stage, indicating mankind are young but the earth is 
old. Some think the Bible is opposed to these views. 
These forget that the Bible has to do with mankind, and 
not with any thing before man was made ; and that it plainly 
teaches this present creation is to be destroyed and a newer 
and greater one formed ; therefore, what shall be may have 
been. There may have been several antecedent creations 
to that of man since the earth was an uncondensed, irregu- 
larly-shaped comet — or " without form and void." Forms 
of life created anterior to human life, for it is stated, accord- 
ing to the correct rendering, that the Spirit of God '"'brooded 
on the waters." To brood is to breed or produce life by a 
spiritual incarnation. The arrangement of these classes 
was by Cuvier, whose idea it was that the existence of man 
on the globe is ^ comparatively recent event. It is interest- 
ing to walk along these extended glass-cases, containing 



682 PARIS. 

specimens out of earth's geological ages, and continue, as 
you observe the gradual introduction of organized life, till 
finally you reach strata in which human remains are found 
— and see those remains as found. You seem to be carrying 
the ages of earth with you as you stand face to face with, 
products of lost thousands of years, or rather anterior 
to all years, and antecedent to time ; when earth's mighty 
chemistry was laboring to bring forth, — working in darkness 
with her cold, and as yet scarcely active material laws, into 
that adornment of beauty and order and life which now 
cover her. And man himself, the microcosm of earth and 
heaven, came as the emanation, the perfection, the result of 
all the past, to operate through his creation and time till all 
tlie ideas of humanity are exhausted, when he will give 
way to, and perhaps become an inhabitant of new heavens 
and new earth. 

ISTear this Museum is that of Natural History. This 
contains preserved and stuffed specimens of all known 
kinds and classes of animals on earth, from the lowest 
orders of animals in the sponge tribes or polyps— scarcely 
distinguishable from vegetables — or where vegetable life 
becomes animal life, yielding up the organization to a higher 
degree, up through all superior classes, reptiles, fishes, 
shell-animals, birds, quadrupeds, to the elephant, whieb 
stands highest of all animals in intellect. The collection 
here is extraordinary and wonderful. The animals are in 
many rooms : there are hippopotami from the Nile, strange 
birds from the South Temperate Zone, singular animals 
from the interior of Africa, and the original and first known 
cameleopard, captured by Le Yalliant in Africa. You read 
here the modifications which that original idea Life is 
susceptible of They are all most artistically and scientifi- 
cally arranged, and the workmanship in preparing and 
stuffing them, so as to preserve precisely their form and 
perfect state, is admirable. The lizard and snake and 



FAMS; 683 

monkey tribes, all varieties of dogs, cats, and all animals, 
are liere exactly as they are in nature. All animality is 
here, gazing at you from their glassy eyes. There are eggs 
of unknown animals, probably of vast birds in some habit- 
less isle in the South Pacific Ocean, as large as the head of 
a horse. The sea has also given up its secrets to furnish 
this Museum, and strange finny monsters, with unearthly 
aspect, are now silent and staid enough. The Museum of 
Anatomy is also adjoining this building. This collection 
is far superior to all others of the kind in the world, being 
formed under the superintendence of the illustrious Cuvier 
and Buffon. Here are skeletons of all animals, of entire 
whales, and skulls of all races of men. The celebrated Dr. 
Gall, the founder of Phrenology, left his great collection of 
skulls to this Museum. The skulls are arranged in regular 
sequence, from the idiotic skull of the Caffre or Hottentot — 
and scarcely human creature of African islands — up to the 
great and noble type of the Anglo-Saxon. There are also 
skeletons of all nations, showing how '' Circumstance, that 
unspiritual god," has wrought on that thing — a man — to 
torture and degrade the vivific spark of an immortal soul. 
There is the skeleton of the celebrated dwarf, '^Bebe," of 
whom there i*s an interesting account in Goldsmith's great 
history; there are many skeletons of Negroes, Chinese, 
Calmucks, Cossacks, that of the assassin of Gen. Kleber, 
and there are Egyptian mummies ; in short, the whole tre- 
mendous premises of Comparative Anatomy are here ex- 
posed. There are also many preserved specimens of foetal 
monsters, curious preparations in wax of all the muscular 
and nervous tissues, and in one place is a preparation in 
form like a pyramid, showing in regular gradation the skulls 
and skeletons of all animals, from the lowest to the highest, 
in one view. This is a Golgotha, sure enough, but after all 
it does not equal in horror the fearful scene I saw under 
the Church of the Cappuccini, at Rome, which persons of 



6S4: PAKIS. 

weak nerves and " blood- boltered" imaginations had better 
keep out of. Many of tbe preparations here, in wax, are 
perfectly horrid and revolting, and one would almost abne- 
gate life if it be such. Some of these double monsters, 
"unformed and half-formed, are the perfection of the fearful. 
There is a Peruvian mummy in a sitting posture, amongst 
the Egyptian mummies; some were found in Abyssinia, 
others in the Catacombs of Thebes. But having " supped 
full of horrors," I returned to the other parts of the garden. 
In these rooms there are numerous guards, who give you 
directions (in French), preserve order, and direct you 
through the intricacies of the apartments. The menagerie, 
in other parts of the gardens, of living animals, is extensive 
and curious ; the monkeys are, as usual, merry enough ; 
but there is a white bear from Siberia in utter agony, the 
day being warm. He has a kind of ice-cove in which to 
live in summer. 

This evening I saw the Empress riding out in her car- 
riage without any escort. She bows to all first, it being 
the etiquette, as no one could possibly refuse to bow to a 
lady in return. The Emperor soon after went out, driving 
his own carriage and without an escort. The London 
papers, which we receive the next morning *in Paris after 
their publication, state he never rides out without squadrons 
to attend him, since the fanatical attempt of Orsini. The 
Emperor does not generally bow or remove his hat, unless 
he is bowed to — this being the etiquette — as it is quite pos- 
sible on the street to give even the Emperor the cut direct. 
The correspondents of newspapers are often remarkable 
for their powers of lying. 

Yesterday I saw the Emperor, and had a close view of 
him. He and two gentlemen, one on each side of him, 
were walking in the garden in front of the Tuileries. He 
walks somewhat stiffly and awkwardly, as if he had chain 
armor underneath his clothing. He is said to wear it. 



■ PAEis. 685 

The expression on his face is at once mean, pitiable and 
powerful, and sad ; but over all is a cloud of mystery, as 
if he dwelt sadly, yet fearlessly, alone, and were determined 
to have his destiny sure, and work it to the utmost, but 
not for his own enjoyment or happiness. There was quite 
a crowd at each end of the railing and in front, as usual, 
for a strange interest associates with this man, who, if he 
cannot succeed in being popular, succeeds in being surpris- 
ing. There was quite a rain at the time, which the Em- 
peror did not mind, but went on talking and walking, as 
if it did not become him who commands a half a million 
of soldiers to care for an April shower. 

The *' Jardin des Plantes," which I have visited several 
times, was founded by Louis XIY. in 1635. It remained 
under the administration of Buffon, the prince of Natu- 
ralists, for forty years. Cuvier, the prince of Geologists, 
followed the same course that Buffon did. It is said there 
are in it fifteen thousand species of plants in vegetation, 
and fruit and forest trees of all sorts. The collection of 
living animals is the most complete that exists. The 
number of herbs and botanical specimens is fifty thousand. 
The palaces for serpents, venomous and not venomous, 
many of which came from South America, for birds, 
monkeys, etc., are superb in all the arrangements condumve 
to equality of temperature, cleanliness, and accessibility to 
sight.- There are one hundred thousand persons in Paris 
without fire, without home, without air, who would be 
happy to be entertained and lodged with half the solicitude 
given to fossils, stones, giraffes, and monkeys. But mere 
man is no curiosity. These Museums are open to the 
public two or three times a week. On other days, strangers 
can get in by production of their passports and a small fee 
to each custode. 

One of the interesting things in Paris is- the ''Grand 
Hotel de Louvre." It is the largest hotel in the world. It 

3h 



686 TABIS. 

is on the Rue de Rivoli, vis-d-vis to one side of the Tuileries 
Palace, or the pavilions of that palace. It rests on arcades 
on that side, and its lower story blazes with splendid shops 
of jewelers, pictured- windows — all that can delight the eye. 
There are eight hundred rooms in the hotel. It is built 
around a splendid quadrangle, or inner court, covered with 
glass. This court is adorned with rich and splendid flower- 
ing trees. The dining-rooms, great halls, reading-rooms, 
etc., are almost as splendid as those of a palace. The usual 
charges at this and other first-class hotels in Paris for a sin- 
gle person are four to six francs (a franc is eighteen cents 
and three-quarters) for a room ; two francs for breakfast, 
consisting of coffee and milk, bread, butter, eggs; seven 
francs for dinner; service, one franc and a half per day. The 
arrangements here are all in the ne plus ultra style of hotel- 
keeping. How delicious and exciting is this Place de la 
Ooncorde these afternoons and evenings! Nothing can equal 
it in the world in respect to being merely pleasant. London 
is dull and heavy ; Vienna is grand and stupid ; Eome is 
ruinous, and venerable, and majestic ; Naples is a succession 
of superficial nothings — fleeting, and fairy, and flashy. At 
London you will drink ale or conspire, but at Paris you will 
simply enjoy the pleasant air and sunshine. On the Place de 
la t^oncorde you have a fine view of the Tuileries Gardens; 
and the old chateau is seen through the arched avenue of 
lofty trees, the fountains and lakes also in the gardens; 
then you have the various statues and monuments of differ- 
ent French cities around the square ; the splendid Egyptian 
Obelisk, aged and mute ; the two congeries of fountains, rain- 
ing upward from clusters of statues. Further down are the 
Champs Elysdes, with their out-door theatres and concerts, 
now open for the summer ; the Palace of Industry, or the 
French Crystal Palace; and a mile off is seen through 
fountains the Triumphal Arch of Napoleon, large as the 
fa9ade of a church ; the stately buildings of the Rue de 



DEPAKTURE FROM PARIS. 687 

Rivoli are seen extending for a mile on a thousand arcades, 
and on the other side the gilt-tipped railings of the gardens ; 
then the Seine, with its bridges — all this scene, with thou- 
sands of elegantly -dressed promenaders, splendid vehicles, 
fine horses, and a general disposition to appear to one's best 
advantage, and to enjoy one's self, and the brilliant sun of 
France over all, makes these scenes for several hours in the 
evening the most fashionable and attractive in the world. 
This is the place to study man — for all classes are repre- 
sented here: the lordly beauty of England; the softer and 
more worldly beauty of France ; the more pensive, flashing 
and original beauty of Italy or Spain — are all here; and 
you meet historical countenances or faces, the indexes to 
demon, fearful hearts. This world has many different 
phases of man in it ; and one who merely saw this scene 
would scarcely dream the same world held the miserable 
tenantrv of Ireland in it also, or the street-walkers of 
London. 

But adieu to Paris, fair and dear Paris 1 I have revisited 
all my old haunts here — places, or pictures, or persons with 
whom leaves of life were had — and given them a last look — 
to be forever the last! Murillo's painting of the " Virgin" — 
that exhaustless emanation of loveliness — was one of the 
dearest and last. My last meal in France was had of .the 
unequalled-any-where-else French bread, butter, cafe-au-lait 
et des oeufs (the reader must be eternally obliged to me for 
the small quantity of French, Dutch and Italian I have 
given him, contrary to the practice of most tourists) ; bills 
were paid, and the unfortunate pourhoire (which some 
Americans persist in pronouncing "poor boy,") was duly 
adjusted with the waiters. There were a few more last 
looks and more last words: the sun was shining on the fresh 
young leaves of the Tuileries Gardens opposite the hotel, 
and on the usual strollers along the streets. I then drove to 
the station of " Du Ghemin de FerJ'' a railway station, Eue 



688 ACROSS. 

St. Lazare, and at twenty-five minutes past eight, A. M., 
I was on the route to Havre, which I reached at one o'clock, 
passing over a country now most green and lovely, with its 
poplar avenues, its gentle slopes of cultivated grounds, old 
villages, each, with a lofty church-spire, in the Yalley of the 
Seine — passed Eouen, with its grand and stately old Gothic 
churches, their spires rising in sublime confusion above the 
surrounding houses, and at seven o'clock in the evening, 
April 27th, stepped off Europe on the Yanderbilt steamer 
for America. 

ISText morning early we arrived at Southampton and the 
Isle of Wight, on the southwest coast of England, where 
we remained till one o'clock, and then began the great trip 
across the Atlantic. The coast of England was seen, as 
usual, under her favorite fogs ; but as we departed, the fog- 
arose, and we saw green and merry England once more — 
our last view of the Eastern World, the historic land. For 
one or two days we had fine weather, the powerful steamer 
rode over the sea as over a conquered thing, the Old World 
went down, and we seemed rapidly tending toward the far- 
off land that lay on earth's sunset side. One day we made 
three hundred and forty miles. On Friday night, how- 
ever, April 80th, old Ocean began to arouse himself, and 
shake the waters and weeds from his hoary mane. The 
storm lasted five or six days ; the wind was directly ahead 
of us, and our speed was consequently reduced to some 
eight or ten miles an hour. The sea rocked our vessel like 
a feather. She reeled like a drunken man, dipped into the 
waves on one side, then turned almost over and tried the 
same process on the other side, the water running entirely 
over the deck, when a tremendous wave would assault her 
in front and dash entirely over her. There were about two 
liundred passengers on board in all. The Yanderbilt is a 
fine and strong vessel, and rode out the storm bravely. 
The attendance during the voyage was generally very good, 



ACROSS. 689 

and the table excellent. Sea-sickness was most copiously 
indulged in on the part of almost all the passengers, and the 
luxuries of the table rather sparingly discussed. Old Ocean, 
even after the storm subsided, was quite sullen for some 
days, and hooded himself over v/ith a white, wooly cowl 
of fog, in which we steamed, however, while the waves still 
rose around us, showing their yawning graves, into which 
we might have been precipitated during the storm had only 
slight derangements of the machinery occurred. The com- 
pany on board was rather pleasant. Among the number 
was a gentleman who had been fourteen years in India as a 
missionary. He was returning to America with his family 
in consequence of ill health. On each of the two Sundays 
we were at sea he delivered us a discourse. He is quite 
well acquainted with the Hindoo tongue, which he and his 
family speak with the ease of their vernacular. He was 
also well acquainted with the Sanscrit, the sacred language 
of the Brahmins, whom he describes as acute reasoners, and 
having a vague and uncertain acquaintance with most of 
the commonly received and remoter objects of faith — such 
as the Trinity and the Incarnation. On Sunday evening, 
May 9th, the low coast of Fire Island came in sight, the 
first land seen in approaching America. We had passed 
through many climates while crossing ; sometimes the sud- 
den and extreme cold seemed to indicate our proximity 
to an iceberg. None, however, were seen. The sea seems 
to have its rivers and currents as the land has ; and 
we sometimes crossed some of these, by which the tem- 
perature of the air was affected. We saw some sails occa- 
sionally ; but in general the passage was almost as un- 
pleasant as a regular winter passage. How barren the 
sea is compared to the land, especially those scenes with 
which my eyes were lately so familiar in dear and old 
Italy, and sunny, bright France — the verdured hills, rivers, 
vales and green fields, with peaceful, old villages and 
44 3h2 



690 NEW YORK. 

ancient churcli-spires ; tlie ruins of the past, and the grand 
palaces of the present; the purple mountains, with their 
vesture of pines ; the romantic, wondrous Ehine ; the mys-. 
terious, sentimental sadness of Venice; the mouldering 
majesty of Eome — all these dear and painful scenes rise to 
memory like the vividness of a last parting of love while I 
gaze on the savage sea ! And then my Journal will soon 
be over, and thy occupation gone, like Othello's. With 
pen or pencil during day, when amidst scenes of interest, or 
at night, when memory lit all up again, I have essayed, 
during a period of eleven months, to note carelessly the 
impressions flitting over mind and heart, and thus give to 
them more continuity than mere shadows on water. It is 
done now. In ancient cities, among works of old art, on 
seas of ice, and on Alpine glaciered and cascaded heights, 
this pencil has obeyed the behests of will : but its labor is 
over now. 

On Sunday evening, at eight o'clock, we discerned the 
lights off Sandy Hook at the entrance to New York Harbor. 
We soon took a pilot on board, and got to New York at 
eleven o'clock at night, but could not land till next day. 
We certainly felt a vast sensation of relief when we found 
we had indeed gotten safely across the "Big Briny," and 
saw the well-known scenes of New York, Long Island and 
Staten Island, and the Jersey shore around us. 

All true Americans, of course, love their own country 
best, no matter what they may see in other lands. We will 
light for it, and die for it — though we will not always live 
exactly under its laws. We claim a right to abuse it now 
and then — but woe betide any other people that do so. 

Next morning we were all full of the felicities of landing. 
We expected ''lots of good things" immediately — to be rid 
of the nasty bilge-water air of the vessel, the confinement 
and other desagremens. We had, indeed, heard there were 
custom-house laws in New York ; but to us, who had been 



AMERICA. 691 

visaed all over Europe, examined, and permitted, and got 
cartes of sojourn everywhere, this seemed to be nothing. 
We had felicitated ourselves often in Europe, when 
obliged to attend to visas, and see that our passports were 
all en regle^ that we had nothing of that kind in '' our coun- 
try." So, being unsophisticated and innocent, we were 
thinking of disembarking immediately, going dignifiedly 
up Broadway to some hotel, and first '^ refresh our inner 
man" with some of the (to us novel) American cooking, 
and then ensconce ourselves between the sheets, and feel 
amazingly comfortable, that we had "done Europe" and 
*' done got back again." But short-sighted people that we 
were. Two custom-house officers came on board — one a 
gray, smiling, officious, plausible, sleek old man — the other, 
silent, prying, uncivil. These began to examine our bag- 
gage. One of them tried to be gracious, but succeeded 
only in being contemptible — the other to be dignified, but 
was only rude. In no part of Europe, in despotic Austria, 
Naples, nor France, did we have by any means so much 
trouble, detention and vexation, or did there appear to be 
worse management. We were detained on the vessel five 
hours, hungry, sea-sick, and impatient to land. It is prob- 
able that all the detention for the whole eleven months in 
Europe, caused in the examination of baggage, did not 
amount to as much as in this one instance. In Europe they 
always have a sufficient number of officers to complete the 
examination of the whole baggage in a few minutes ; and 
when one has had his baggage examined, he can depart 
without waiting for the others. But here we were not per- 
mitted to land till every one, even the deck passengers and 
emigrants, had their boxes peered into by these two per- 
sons. Having been a foreigner in other countries, and 
been treated with civility by their officers, I took occasion 
to notice how foreigners, who come to our country to settle 
on our broad lands, and eventually become good citizens, 



692 AMERICA. 

who will defend it as valiantly as anj of us, are treated on 
their arrival in New York ; and I must say it is not calcu- 
lated to impress the lonely, perhaps desolate emigrant, with 
a very favorable opinion of our " free institutions." Cour- 
tesy is never misplaced anywhere, and a little of it on the 
part of those custom-house officers would not be amiss. 
One Italian lady, being suspected to have concealed some 
silk goods about her person, was taken below by one of 
these persons and searched. Her insulted and wounded 
expression — she was unable to speak a word of English, 
was almost painful. The European — pourhoire^ as it is called 
in France — Trinh geldes, it is called in Germany, — drrnh 
money ^ as it is called in England, — huonomano as it is called 
in Italy — institution of giving a small fee, one or two francs, 
or two or three pauls each for services rendered, is a 
gentlemanly arrangement compared to that by which we 
were now annoyed on the Vanderbilt. It is the custom to 
give the steward, by whom you are specially waited on, a 
fee of some three or four dollars for his services. With 
this, however, they are not satisfied— the head-steward ex- 
pected a fee also from each passenger, in addition to what 
the passenger gave the one who specially waited on him. 
So between hunger, sea-sickness, complaints at the deten- 
tion, rudeness of the officers and stewards, no very amiable 
state of feeling prevailed on board the Vanderbilt. But at 
length we landed. I observed that each emigrant had to 
walk through a certain place in Castle Garden, give his 
name, and then wait his turn to get his baggage, which 
would occupy five hours more. They were obliged to 
assemble in a long row" while one rowdy -looking officer or 
fellow, in a caricature of a uniform, with a stumpy gun, 
which he carried awkwardly, pretended to keep guard; 
but in reality swore, and got angry, and quarreled with the 
emigrants, they cursing him and he cursing them. The 
railway stations in the French and English provincial 



NEW YORK ' 6^S 

towns are more commodious than the whole erection of 
Castle Garden; and with a little expenditure, and a few 
more persons to hand out and receive the checks, the whole 
baggage could have been distributed in a few minutes, 
instead of keeping emigrants in the city on expenses which 
they were but little able to meet. The crowd of carriage- 
drivers that now assailed the travelers like a cloud of cor- 
morants would beggar all description, and their insulting 
remarks would almost make deafness a blessing. Being- 
unaccustomed to hear English spoken, their oaths and 
remarks were no welcome reminding of one's vernacular. 
Procuring one, however, who distinctly engaged to drive 
me to my hotel in the Park for a certain sum, on my ar- 
rival he demanded just double — and on my refusing, cursed 
and swore in such a manner as would have insured his ap- 
prehension by the hotel-police of any town in Europe. So 
that the delights of returning to America, " Swate Ameri- 
ca," are oftentimes more poetic than practical. But at last 
one is fairly in New York, and the scene is familiar and 
yet strange. It is strange to hear the English language 
spoken everywhere. It is strange and welcome, too, to see 
American newspapers ; but the overstrained, overwrought, 
and fictitious tales in them, the intense excitement of busi- 
ness, the hurry everywhere, the little repose in action or 
manner, the loud and rough speaking, do not seem quite so 
agreeable. We are a great people — we have long since 
agreed about that — one man accomplishes as much as tw^o 
or three in Europe ; but we do not take time to do any 
thing either with ease to ourselves or pleasure to others. 
We are the most effective nation in the world; but the 
most restless and Unhappy. We accomplish more and en- 
joy less than other people. Our life is not wine, but brandy. 
We do not exist — we live. Other nations have their im- 
moralities or faults of the heart or affections — ours are 
faults of intellectual wickedness. We are not sensual, but 



694 NEW Y0IIK„ 

selfish— not proud, but vain — have intellect, but not geniuSo 
But we are now in the period of our youth and action. 
That of repose and genius will come on in due time, when 
the mind, now absorbed in money -making, leveling forests, 
and political squabbling, will roll back on itself, and achieve 
results that will amaze history. Being a mixture of all 
peoples, our actions will be various and extensive, but not 
:.;.profound or great in anyone department, till ages shall 
have condensed and cemented us all into an individuality 
of national Americans. Though Broadway is a very splen- 
did street, and there are constant crowds passing along it, 
yet the aspect of New York is in general far less splendid 
and imposing than that of many European towns, ex- 
cept in the number of marble-faced stores, and the vast 
size of some of the hotels. American taste is showy and 
gaudy, but has not the solid-throughout-magnificence of 
the European standard. The Unter-den-Linden, in Berlin, 
is a finer street than any in ISTew York. Vienna has no one 
finer street than Broadway, but is a more compactly splen- 
did city than New York. The parts of New York, about 
the Fifth Avenue, are certainly very fine, and the houses 
splendid and in good taste ; but certainly not equal to many 
parts of Paris, London, or Dublin, or Brussels — and there 
is a kind of a pretentiousness, a sort of recentness and 
vanity that are not very far from vulgarity. None of the 
churches, not Trinity, or those in the upper part of the city, 
with their maimed Gothic attempts, could of course compare 
with almost any of the more noted ones of Europe. There 
are more hurry and confusion here, and a far better middle 
and lower class than in Europe — more rough vulgarity, but 
more freedom of speech, and a loftier air in the common 
people. No parks in New York deserve mention at the 
same time with those of Versailles, Fontainebleau, nor any 
gardens can be compared with those of the Tuileries or 
Luxembourg. These will come in time, however. In na- 



NEW YORK. 695 

tural position and advantages for commerce, New York is 
unsurpassed in the world, though in beauty of situation far 
inferior to Naples. On the whole, there is more rugged 
utility in America — less taste, beauty of style, elegance and 
correctness in architecture than in Europe, but more pre- 
tention : there are action and energy in America — thought 
and enjoyment in Europe. Europe is governed too much 
— America is not governed at all : but there is less need of 
government here. The aggregate of all individual self- 
interest, if rightly attained, is better than any government; 
and this is pursued in America with an energy unknown 
elsewhere, and is better in its operation and effects than a 
compulsory, external government. For if every individual 
were to pursue his own self-interest merely, all the ends of 
government would be subserved. The true object of gov- 
ernment should be, to compel each man to his own good. 

There were several anniversaries of certain societies in 
New York while I was there — the speaking at which 
seemed to indicate extreme unhappiness on the part of some 
individuals on the subject of what they call " a sin," in ope- 
ration a thousand or more miles from them, neglecting the 
more loudly demanded objects of benevolence in their 
midst. Most of the speaking, however, seemed too con- 
temptible even to be despised. I left New York at six 
o'clock in the evening, Wednesday, May 12th, for Phila- 
delphia — passing over, at first, a flat, infertile, and uninter- 
esting country. The cars are not nearly so good as the 
second-class cars in Europe, nor the railways in general so 
substantially built, though the speed is greater. As to the 
depots or station-houses, most of them are dark and inele- 
gant edifices, very different from, and far inferior to, the 
palatial, convenient, and elegant constructions in Europe. 
I arrived at Philadelphia at ten o'clock, from which start- 
ing at eleven, I passed along the Central Pennsylvania 
Kailway — a splendid road — ascending the mountains by 



Q^6 ^ NOTE. 

curves and inclined planes, indicating much skillful engi- 
neering; but in the bridges, viaducts, and tunnels, not so 
great a work by an}^ means as the Austrian railway from 
Vienna to Trieste. Ascending the valley of one of the 
rivers, the extremely green and fertile appearance of the 
fields, the romantic bluffs, bends of the rivers, all impressed 
the mind -with emotions of calmness, and gratitude also 
to that Being who had, during the course of a long travel in 
other lands and scenes, providentially guided and brought 
us back to the place of starting in safety. Since the bright 
June morning of last year when we started, what a wealth 
of scenes we had been in ! How freighted is memory with 
the things of the old world, and must be, while memory 
shall hold her sanity. But — farewell ! 

*' A word that must be and liath been — 

A sound tbat makes us linger — yet farewell." 



Note. — The necessary expenses of a trip to Europe will generally 
average about five dollars per day, for every day one is absent. This 
will include locomotion, boarding, fees to guides, fees to guards, uj'sos 
for passports — and in generalone'sisnecessary and decent expenses — 
admit of stopping at the best hotels. Should one travel fast, how- 
ever, and not remain long in each city, his expenses will exceed this 
amount. In the British Empire, also, one's expenses will reach, on 
an average, eight or nine dollars a day. The cheapest places are 
Southern Germany, France, Switzerland, and Italy. The above esti- 
mate of five dollars per day is about the average of one's necessary 
expenses. In Rome or Naples, one's merely hotel expenses need not 
exceed two-and-a-half dollars per day — this includes ordinary wines. 

The French language is altogether necessary. For though many of 
the first-class hotels keep one servant who can speak English, the 
traveler is always presumed to know French and addressed in it, and 
will frequently be exposed to inconvenience and annoyance for want 
of this desideratum. Some procure a courier or interpreter — this is a 
great convenience where there is a family traveling. The salary of a 
courier, who is reliable in his habits, morals, and knowledge of routes 
'and places, and such only should be taken, will average fifty or sixty 
dollars per month. Sometimes one can get a courier for less when 



NOTE. 697 

disengaged, or with rather little prospect of being employed. Murray's 
Guide Books, distinguished by their red color, are of course in the 
hands of every traveler, and deservedly so ; though they are chiefly 
a compilation. They embrace almost all the traveled portions ot 
Europo except Sicily, and one will soon be published relative to that 
island. They contain all necessary information to the traveler, with 
plans of the cities, maps, and regular detals of the various routes 
traveled, names and standing of hotels, etc. Bradshaw's Railway 
Guide is also important, and also the "Almanac de Gotha," last edi- 
tion. Clothing can generally be purchased at every place in Europe, 
as cheap and of as good quality as in America. The cheapest places 
for purchasing clothing, mosaic work, coral work, etc., are Florence, 
Naples, and Venice. April and May are the best months for Paris and 
northern Italy. Rome should be avoided in the malaria season, from 
June to October — this, however, is the best time for Switzerland, Scot- 
land, England, and Ireland. London is best seen in June. As places 
for prolonged residence, Dresden, Brussels, and Florence, are perhaps 
preferable, in regard to cheapness, society, and interesting objects. 
Many English, who constitute the great majority of the traveling 
community, spend the winter in Rome. The traveler should free his 
mind from as much prejudice as possible, and cultivate a bland, un- 
criticizing, but at the same time, discriminating spirit. Persons dif- 
fer extremely in regard to their enjoyment of ti'aveling. It is ne- 
cessary to have a considerable portion of enthusiasm in one's compo- 
sition in order to enjoy it much. On the whole, it may be said that 
traveling is a good thing, and that staying at home is not such a very 
bad thing either. Other lands may be more aged — may have greater 
historical monuments, or grander works of genius — or Nature hereelf 
may appear more attractive — but " there's no place like home 1*' 

3i 



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